


Flight

by sneetchstar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 78,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10090292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneetchstar/pseuds/sneetchstar
Summary: AU 3x10, where Arthur and Gwen really do leave Camelot, bringing Merlin with them. Originally a mini-fic chapter in "Songs to Dance."





	1. Chapter 1

"Gwen!" an urgent voice whispers in the dark dank of the dungeons. "Gwen, wake up!"

Guinevere turns over and sits up on the filthy straw mat. Her eyes show no signs of sleep, only weeping. They are swollen and rimmed with red. "Merlin?" she blinks. She has spent the evening crying and crying and ran out of tears an hour ago.

Merlin swings the cell door open. "Come on," he holds out his hand to her.

She doesn't move; she stares. "How…?"

"No time to explain. Come _on_ Gwen, he's waiting for us!"

"Arthur?" she stands, a tiny thread of hope daring to lace its way through her broken heart.

"Who else? _Let's go,_ " he urges, grabbing her hand and pulling her from the cell.

She follows him quickly through the dungeons. He moves quickly, but not furtively. He is purposeful. _What is going on? I'm to be executed in the morning, and we're walking out the front door like nothing is happening._ They reach the guard station, and she gasps at the sight of the guards, prone on the ground.

"What happened? Are they…"

"Sleeping comfortably. And very, _very_ deeply," Merlin says, his face set, as he pulls her along up the stairs. They pass more guards and some servants. They are all in the same sort of drugged sleep.

"Have they been drugged?"

"Something like that," Merlin says vaguely. The eerie silence as they walk through the corridors of the castle is unsettling. She continues to follow her friend, the hurried pace set by his much longer legs making her have to almost jog along beside him.

"Merlin—" she starts.

"Sorry, we need to be quick. I'm not sure how long we have," he says, grabbing her hand before pushing the doors to the courtyard open.

They hurry across the stones, passing more sleeping guards. Even the horses are sleeping. Dogs and cats. Mice. Night birds. Every person, every _thing_ that can sleep is doing so.

Gwen is beginning to feel uneasy. _Merlin isn't telling me something._

Near the gates to town, they see the silhouette of a cloaked figure standing with three horses. Merlin sends a low whistle, and the figure lifts his head and runs down to meet them.

Gwen's heart stops beating as she is enfolded in his embrace and lifted off her feet. She throws her arms around his neck, squeezing fiercely, tears once again flowing from her eyes. The tears of sadness have run dry; tears of joy still exist in abundance from lack of use.

"Guinevere," his rough voice rumbles in her ear as he tucks his face into her neck, breathing her in.

He pulls back, sets her on her feet, and bends down, kissing her passionately, a kiss of ultimate relief, a kiss of longing, a kiss with a promise within.

Merlin clears his throat. Arthur turns and glares. "We need to go. _Now,_ " Merlin reminds them.

Arthur strokes Gwen's cheek, noting her swollen eyes, feeling the fresh tears under his palm. "We're leaving Camelot," he tells her softly, taking her hand as they hurry to where he's secured the horses.

"I… I gathered as much. But, Arthur…" she says.

"I know. Camelot needs me. And it will have me. Later. When I am able to govern it by _my_ rules, not the rules made by my father and other narrow-minded classist idiots."

She bites her lip, troubled. "I can't let you leave because of me."

"Do you really think you have a choice?" he turns and asks, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. "Sorry. I'm sorry," he apologizes immediately when he sees her face. He pecks her lips and continues. "It's either leave for a while and return when I can claim the throne as its rightful king with my beautiful queen at my side, or stay here and watch you get executed in the morning. _And I cannot watch that happen._ "

The pain in his eyes breaks her heart, and another tear slips from the corner of her eye.

"Merlin talked me out of my original plan, which was to threaten my own life if my father planned on going through with your execution," Arthur says quietly as he assists Gwen up onto her horse.

"That's a bit extreme," Gwen says, shocked.

"Guinevere. Know this: I do not want to – no, I _know_ that I cannot live, cannot survive in a world without you in it. The king you see in me does not exist without _you._ "

More tears escape from Gwen's eyes as she looks down at her prince, the force of his love for her scaring her a little bit. _But do I feel any less intensely?_ she asks herself, closing her eyes. _No._

He kisses her hand and squeezes it before swinging up onto his own horse and spurring it into motion.

xXx

"Where are we going?" Gwen asks after a time. They have slowed a little now that they are well out of the city, but they are still within the borders of the kingdom.

"South," is all that Arthur will say.

"How far south?" Gwen asks, curious.

"As far south as we can go."

"I've always wanted to see the sea," she says quietly. Arthur hears her and smiles over at her.

"I think you'll get your wish, my love."

She smiles back at him. It is the first smile that has graced her lips since they were discovered at the picnic yesterday, and it is a weak smile, almost as if she has forgotten how.

"We need to reach the borders of the kingdom by daylight, Arthur," Merlin reminds him, impatient with the slow pace.

"Merlin, relax," Arthur says, but knows that Merlin has just as much to fear as he and Gwen do, perhaps more.

_"Arthur, you cannot kill yourself."_

_"Yes, I can, and I will, Merlin."_

_"Arthur, what if I can help Gwen to escape? And you as well?"_

_"Ha," Arthur laughed a humorless laugh. "You? You couldn't escape from a cloth bag; you're going to break Guinevere out of her cell and get me past the six heavily armed and well-trained guards outside my door?"_

_"Yes." Merlin's face was deadly serious._

_"And how, pray tell, are you going to do that?"_

_Merlin snapped his fingers and all the candles in Arthur's room went out at once. He snapped them again and they all re-lit._

_Arthur stared, aghast. "So you're a wizard," he says impotently._ Why am I not furious?

_Merlin nodded, grateful that Arthur was not bothering to waste time yelling at him. "Let me help you, Arthur. The plan you told Morgana: let's do it. We'll leave, and come back when it is your time to be king. I'll have to wipe Morgana's memory of that conversation, of course…"_

_"I don't think that's necessary, Merlin. I trust her," Arthur argued._

_"I don't."_

"Tell Guinevere, Merlin," Arthur quietly recommends. "She needs to know, too. I won't have any secrets. Not anymore."

"Tell me what?"

"You remember everyone sleeping?" Merlin asks Gwen

Gwen nods.

"I did that."

"Sleeping draught?" she asks, knowing that it cannot be, remembering the all-encompassing effects of… whatever it was.

Merlin shakes his head. "You know that's not it, Gwen."

"I know," she admits softly.

"Gwen, please understand why I had to keep it a secret. Even from you. Especially from you."

"I do understand. You would have been endangering my life as well as your own."

Arthur listens to the exchange with interest. _He didn't exactly tell her; yet she knows. Is she smarter than me? Or does she just understand Merlin?_ He sighs. _Probably both._

"I never used it unless I had to. And never for evil purposes. But there is so much more I wish I could have done had I been allowed to use my gifts freely…" he trails off.

"I know," she answers quietly. _He's talking about my father._ She straightens up, and fixes him with a smirk. "So you're not just helping us run, then, are you? You're running as well, now."

He grins. "It appears so."

"Gaius knows?" she asks suddenly.

Merlin nods. Arthur glances over at him, frowning. _Well, nothing for it, now. Of course Gaius would protect him._

xXx

They finally stop at midday, once they are well outside Camelot, in a small village. They are exhausted, sore, and hungry. Gwen notices for the first time that Arthur is dressed simply, bearing no marks identifying him as a Pendragon or tying them to Camelot in any way.

"No one will know me here; we are far enough away," Arthur says, dismounting near an inn. "It's early, but we are all tired. Let's stop and get a room," he glances at Merlin. "Or two."

Merlin hides his smirk.

He acquires two rooms for them easily, and sees that their horses are properly tended. Gwen is impressed at his total lack of imperious attitude, speaking to the innkeeper like he is a man and not just a peasant, even joking lightly with him.

They pause outside the two rooms. Gwen knows what she _wants,_ but she also knows it is highly improper.

Her un-asked question is answered for her when Arthur opens one door, Merlin opens another, and they each go into a room. She bites her lip, takes a deep breath, and follows Arthur into the room.

"Arthur, this isn't proper," she protests weakly.

"It is if you're my wife," he says quietly.

"What?" she asks, though she heard him clear as day.

"Marry me, Guinevere," he says. Asking; sort of.

She gasps.

"Please?" he adds, taking her hands. She looks into his eyes and sees his uncertainty, his anticipation, his fear.

"Yes," she whispers, biting her lip again.

He swoops in and kisses her swiftly, hungrily, gratefully. "Today?" he breaks away, resting his forehead against hers.

"What?" she repeats, and he laughs.

"She said yes, then?" Merlin asks, and they jump, turning to see him leaning casually in the doorway.

"Yes," Arthur says, grinning like a boy. "Merlin, can you…?"

"On my way," he turns to leave, knowing what Arthur is asking.

xXx

The wedding is simple; a Druid priest performs the ceremony.

 _"We can trust him, Arthur," Merlin reassured him when the former prince balked at the concept. "Arthur, the Druids know me. The_ real _me. And they've kept my secret. They'll keep yours. If your father sends a search party, they won't even be found. And your marriage will still be completely binding," he added, answering Arthur's other concern._

They are deep within a forest, led to a clearing by Merlin. The ceremony is simple, Merlin the only witness.

Arthur came prepared with a ring. The priest, Odras, blessed the ring, blessed them both, and blessed their union. Then he blessed Merlin, charging him with the protection of the couple.

"Now, as a symbol of sealing your union as man and wife, you must seal this ceremony with a kiss affirming your love for each other," Odras declares, completing the ceremony.

Arthur pulls Guinevere close. She looks radiant in a simple gown borrowed from the innkeeper's wife and flowers in her hair, standing in the soft afternoon sunlight. "I love you," he whispers just before his lips touch hers, softly at first, gradually increasing in intensity as Gwen leans up into him, her hand forgetting its manners and straying into his hair.

They part and gaze into each other's eyes. They remember to breathe again. They remember where they are again. "I love you, Arthur," Gwen whispers back to him, stroking his cheek with her fingertips. Merlin and Odras smile over the couple.

"Their love will bring great things on this land, Emrys," Odras says simply. Merlin nods in agreement.

"Emrys?" Arthur turns and asks.

"My Druid name. It's what they call me," he answers simply.

"Arthur, Guinevere," Odras addresses them. "The Druid people will watch over you. We always have our eyes on Camelot as well. We will alert Emrys when the time is right for you to return."

"Thank you, Odras," Gwen says, twining her fingers with Arthur's.

"Continue on your journey south. You will be safe. Arthur, introduce yourself as Aldwin to all whom you meet. Guinevere, you shall be called Goldevia. Merlin, your name is now Marden."

Arthur's brow furrows. "Surely that won't be necessary."

"Do not underestimate the length of the arms of gossip, my lord. Your name is already known far and wide, and news of your flight will not take long to spread."

"Thank you again, Odras," Guinevere says, touching his arm lightly.

"Yes, thank you. And please know that under my rule, the Druid people will be free to live as they please, treated with respect and no longer persecuted. I promise you this," Arthur says.

"I know what you say is true, Aldwin," Odras says, addressing Arthur by his new name. Arthur smiles weakly. _He doesn't like the name,_ Gwen and Merlin both think, sharing a secret smile between them.

They turn to leave, and Odras' voice halts them.

"Beware of the Lady Morgana, however. She is not what she seems and she may not be willing to give up the throne to you upon your return."

Merlin looks back and nods, quickly ushering his friends back towards the inn.

xXx

They dine alone, in a small room shown to them by the innkeeper's wife, overcome by the romance of their seemingly sudden marriage. The innkeeper indulges his wife, but cannot help wondering what they are running from or if the blonde stranger has gotten the tiny brown beauty in a family way. His wife shushes him, dismissing his concerns, calling them "poppycock" just before she heads in to check on the trio.

"Can I get you anything else, dears?" she asks, after knocking softly.

"Perhaps a top-up of my ale, if you please," Arthur asks, holding his mug aloft. "G- Goldevia, do you need anything, Love?" he asks, smirking at her, using her new pseudonym for the first time.

"No thank you, ma'am, I'm simply stuffed," she says, smiling at the older woman. She notices that the girl's plate is only half-eaten.

"Are you sure, Lamb? You've got a lot left there," the innkeeper's wife asks, a mother's concern showing in her voice. She studies Guinevere, cursing her husband and his ridiculous ideas. _She looks healthy, but not glowing. Neither ill nor ravenous. Full breasts, but not too much so. This girl is not with child,_ she thinks, but she knows she'll be keeping a keen ear out in the morning for anything sounding remotely like someone being sick. She curses her husband again.

Gwen smiles kindly at her. "I've always been a light eater, sorry. It was excellent, thank you."

"I'll finish it," Merlin says, reaching for her plate. Arthur rolls his eyes at him, but the innkeeper's wife only smiles.

"I'd say you could do with a second or even a third helping, my dear," she smiles at Merlin, who holds his mug aloft to her in a silent toast, his mouth full. He takes a drink, and she rushes to refill him.

"Um, I do have some honey cakes, made fresh this afternoon…" she offers. "It is traditional to have a bite of cake after a wedding, you know."

"Thank you, that would be lovely," Arthur says, smiling at Gwen.

The older woman scurries out, bustling back to get the cakes for them. Cakes she made especially for them, actually.

The innkeeper frowns over at his wife as she speeds through with the cakes. She sticks her tongue out at him and delivers the cakes to the young couple and their friend.

xXx

"Beginning to feel like an intruder here," Merlin mutters, standing. The conversation has been dwindling steadily over the last hour due to Gwen and Arthur becoming more and more absorbed in one another.

"Sorry, Merlin," Gwen blushes, standing also. "It… it has been a long day, hasn't it?"

Arthur stands, knocking his stool over in his haste. Gwen hides her giggle behind her hand while Merlin laughs openly. Arthur swings his arm around Merlin's shoulders, squeezing him into a headlock and half dragging him from the room. Merlin just laughs and quickly worms himself free, giving Arthur a friendly shove on the shoulder.

Arthur turns suddenly out of habit, ready to dispense punishment, but Gwen's hand on his arm reminds him that he isn't the prince any more. He is Aldwin the potential farmer. Merlin – Marden – is his equal now.

And besides, if Merlin wanted to, he could blast Arthur through the wall into the next room.

They reach their rooms and suddenly awkwardness takes over.

"Goodnight… you two," Merlin says, trying to keep the innuendo out of his voice and not quite achieving that goal.

Gwen blushes, but steps over to him and hugs him tightly. "Thank you, Merlin. I'd be dead by now were it not for you," she says, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"Merlin," Arthur says, regarding his best friend ( _May as well admit it, man._ ) and former servant.

"Arthur."

"Thanks," he says, slapping him companionably on the shoulder. Then, surprising them both, he grabs him and hugs him. "You are a true friend," he says, then releases him. "Even if you are a wizard," he adds, shoving the side of his head lightly.

Merlin turns and heads to his room, chuckling. Arthur bends and lifts his bride into his arms. Gwen laughs, turns the knob to the door, and Arthur kicks it open.

"Mind her head in the doorway," Merlin calls, before shutting his door.

Gwen laughs again, resting her head on Arthur's shoulder as he goes through the narrow doorway, turning sideways to avoid bumping any part of her.

He kicks the door closed behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur plants a longing kiss on Guinevere's waiting lips as he sets her softly on her feet. He steps back to the door and slides the bolt, locking them in. As the bolt finds its home, they see a line of blue light trace the perimeter of the room, surrounding them like a great bubble before disappearing.

"What was that?" Gwen asks, her voice full of wonder.

"Um, must have been Merlin. He said something about a soundproofing spell and not wanting to unintentionally intrude by overhearing anything. It was part of a very awkward conversation we had while you were dressing; please don't ask me to elaborate. I'd really rather not relive it," he says, bending and chucking his boots and socks off unceremoniously.

She chuckles, picturing her dear friend and her dear love both stammering and clearing their throats, both trying valiantly and unsuccessfully not to turn sixteen different shades of red.

He stands and regards her and they share a brief moment, a small standoff, neither knowing how to proceed.

Arthur breaks the spell first, stepping towards Gwen and cupping her lovely face gently between his hands, tilting it up towards him so he can kiss her with equal gentleness.

Gwen's eyes drift close as she surrenders to his kiss. She is no longer surprised by how gentle he always is with her, but it still amazes her. _He is so different from his public persona when he is alone with me._

"Guinevere," he says her name soft and low, his lips hovering near hers. She realizes he is trembling slightly. _Or is that me?_

He takes her hand in his and leads her to the bedside, his thumb nervously rubbing the skin of her wrist, sending tendrils of heat up her arm.

She bites her lip and releases his hand, bringing hers to his waist and his belt, which she unfastens and lays aside.

He stares, his breathing shallow. Then he reaches forward and pulls at the laces of her corset, which happen to be in the front. His knuckles brush the undersides of her breasts and they both inhale sharply at the contact, locking eyes for a brief moment before he frees the garment and tosses it carelessly away.

Gwen takes a deep breath and lifts the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. He leans forward and lifts his arms to assist her, almost as if he were a small boy again being undressed by his nursemaid. She sets the shirt beside his belt and brings her hands to his chest.

"I've always wanted to touch these muscles." She whispers the admission.

He brings his hands over hers, guiding them around, encouraging her. "Be my guest, Wife, they are yours to enjoy."

 _Wife._ Her hands reach his shoulders and she pulls him down to kiss him again.

Arthur pulls away, reluctantly, and ponders her dress. "How…?" he asks, not sure how to proceed. He takes her shoulders and gently turns her, finding a tie in the back. "Aha," he declares, and his fingers go to work again, pulling the narrow laces free.

The dress is just a bit too big for her petite frame, and once opened, a soft brown shoulder comes into view almost immediately. Arthur's lips are drawn to it like a magnet, ghosting feather-light over the exposed skin, drawing a small gasp from Guinevere.

He presses his lips to her shoulder more firmly, craving the feel of her skin against them. When the tip of his tongue comes forth to shyly lick at the soft, warm flesh, she shivers and brings her arm up, her hand to his cheek.

 _Oh, God, if this is just what it feels like to have him kiss my shoulder…_ Gwen thinks, unable to even finish the thought.

He slides the dress down from her other shoulder, and she pulls her arms from the sleeves, leaving it hanging at her hips for a moment until she shoves it to the floor.

Arthur lifts her then, out of the circle of fabric, as easily as if she were a child. She turns back to face him in her shift, the thin linen barely hiding anything.

"God, Guinevere, I…" he trails off, his eyes raking over her small form, her slender arms and soft curves, her bare feet on the soft rug.

_When did she remove her shoes? Why am I thinking about her shoes?_

Gwen takes a deep breath and slides the thin straps of the shift from her shoulders and lets the garment slither down her body to the floor. She steps out of it, kicking it to the side as she does so, looking down.

She keeps her eyes downcast, having used up the last of her bravery.

"Guinevere," Arthur says softly. His voice is raspy, like it has caught in his throat.

"Guinevere, look at me," he presses, lifting her chin with his fingers.

Her eyes meet his and she bites her lower lip again, her heart pounding so hard that she is certain he can see it.

"You are unbelievably beautiful, my love," he whispers. He reaches towards her with one hand, hesitates in mid-air, then drops it with a curse so faint she can barely hear it.

Gwen's teeth release their grip on her lush bottom lip and she manages a small smile and a whispered, "Thank you."

"I don't want to scare you," he finally admits, explaining why he dropped his hand.

"I'm not scared. Not really. Not of you. Nervous, yes. Not scared." _I'm rambling,_ she realizes and she drops her eyes again.

He chuckles now, able to read her like a book. He finally touches her then, his hand snaking around her waist, sliding his battle-roughened palm against her smooth skin as he pulls her closer.

"We are unequal," he whispers, dropping his head down over hers and inhaling deeply, taking in the smell of her hair.

"But you're not really a prince anymore," she says, confused as to why he is bringing this up now.

He laughs, confusing her further. "No, Love, I mean I still have my trousers on," he says, guiding her hands to the waist of his trousers.

She drops her head against his chest. "Oh," she says dumbly. He lifts her chin again, smiling warmly at her before kissing her lips again.

"And here all this time I thought that you were smarter than me," he teases. "Oof!" he exclaims when Gwen moves her hand and punches his stomach.

"You are not funny, Arthur," she says, trying not to laugh now. _I'm standing here naked, on my wedding night, giggling like an idiot. Not how I pictured this at all._

He silences her with another toe-curling kiss, once again guiding her hands to the ties of his trousers, determined that she be the one to remove them. This time her hands comply, pulling the ties.

They open and she just barely pushes them down before they drop unceremoniously to his feet.

Gwen suddenly finds her hands touching the bare skin of his hips and she gasps in surprise, pulling her lips away.

Arthur steps out of his fallen trousers and he kicks them aside, catching her hands in his and keeping them in place just as she tries to remove them.

"Touch me, Guinevere," he whispers, nuzzling her nose with his, his eyes half-lidded, his surprisingly long lashes brushing her cheek.

His voice is like a drug, and Gwen's hands still beneath his. He removes his hands and places them back at her waist, sliding up her back, down to rest on her hips, fingers reaching down to her backside just slightly.

Gwen keeps her hands on him, but doesn't move them. He kisses her again, softly, and she slides her hands up his sides, and he jumps.

 _Arthur is ticklish?_ She gives an experimental poke and he jumps again, yelping this time as well.

"Stop that!"

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, giggling. "I just didn't know you were ticklish."

"Well, find someplace _else_ to put your hands, Wife," he says, dropping his voice to that low soft register again, moving her now, slowly, towards the bed.

Arthur's lips are at her neck again, encouraging her as one of his hands creeps slowly towards its target, sliding around to rest at her side. She feels the side of the bed against her legs just as she feels Arthur's thumb graze the underside of her breast.

Guinevere pulls her lips from his and gazes up at him, her eyes dark and passion-glazed. She drops her eyes again, this time boldly looking at him, her eyes drinking all of him in, her curiosity and desire finally making her brave enough to give in to her urge to look him. All of him.

Arthur doesn't move his hand, watching her watch him. Gwen reaches her hand slowly across to him, touching with one finger, running it along the length of his shaft experimentally.

He sucks in his breath sharply and she jerks her hand away as if she has been burnt.

"Sorry," she says.

Arthur takes her hand and places it fully on him, showing her that she didn't hurt him, wrapping her fingers around him.

"Oh," she breathes. _It's so strange. It doesn't feel like anything I've ever felt before._

"Oh!" she gasps as his hand finally covers her breast, his palm grazing her nipple before giving an experimental squeeze. Her hand reflexively tightens around his manhood and he gasps in response.

Arthur moves his hand and runs his thumb across her nipple, which tightens and stiffens further under his touch. Gwen's back arches slightly, reflexively, her body wanting more of his touches.

He kisses her once more before removing his hand. She makes a small noise of disappointment that makes him smile just before she finds herself lifted off her feet again. She releases him as he sweeps her into his arms and he lays her on the bed, where he stares down at her again.

_So beautiful. That cinnamon-colored skin, softer than I could have possibly imagined. She's perfect; it's like she was crafted specifically for me, to fit into my hands, against my body._

"Arthur?" she asks, opening her eyes when she realizes he hasn't joined her.

"I still am having trouble believing we are here, together; married. Guinevere, I cannot get over how beautiful you are."

"You are going to make me as arrogant as you if you keep saying that," she chides gently, reaching her hand out to touch his leg, the only place she can reach as he's set her in the center of the bed.

"I don't think that's possible," he smiles. "No one is as arrogant as I am," he says proudly, sinking down onto the bed.

"Even arrogant about your arrogance, I see," she remarks with a smirk that he promptly kisses away.

Arthur's tongue finds hers within the recesses of her mouth and his hand finds her breast again, the other one this time, giving it similar treatment to the first. He kisses down her neck, tracing the line of her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, down lower until he finds her unoccupied breast, where he flicks his tongue against her nipple.

Gwen whimpers, clamping her mouth closed, trying to be quiet, proper, not wanting to appear a wanton hussy. Her hands clutch at the bedsheets.

Arthur's lip curls into a devilish half-smile before descending fully over her nipple, suckling at it, running his tongue around, even gently biting it, trying to coax more noise from her.

"Mm!" She makes a sound somewhere between a grunt and a squeak as she bites her lip. Her traitorous body is arching against him again and Arthur continues his assault on her senses, moving to her other breast.

"Don't hold it in, Guinevere," he purrs against her chest as he travels across, licking the valley between her breasts as he goes. "I want to hear _everything._ "

_What?_

He finds her other nipple and vaguely she is aware that one of his hands has gone traveling again, working its way down her stomach. Currently it is resting below her navel, his fingertips just barely touching the line of soft-yet-coarse curls at the apex of her thighs.

Arthur runs his teeth lightly across her nipple and she squeaks again, louder, this time opening her mouth again, trying to let loose the reins.

His hand drops lower and to the side, on her thigh, where he can feel her legs trembling slightly as she wars with keeping them closed and splaying them wide for him.

 _Obviously she's been given the wrong kind of advice,_ Arthur realizes, sliding his tongue across her rock-hard nipple while he slides his hand towards her inner thigh, gently coaxing her open for him.

"Oh…" she gasps, but still seems reserved.

Arthur kisses her breast and lifts his head. "Guinevere," he says, looking at her. She opens her eyes. "Trust me," he commands gently, trying again at her thigh.

He kisses her lips softly once again and finally she decides to relax. She seems to melt into the bed, her tension kissed away and her legs finally relent to his touch, parting.

"Thank you," he whispers, "don't worry, Love. Let yourself enjoy it. I want you to be wanton."

"How did you…?" she asks, but he kisses the question away, his hand now touching the warmth between her legs. He slides a finger carefully between her folds, moving slowly, and her body nearly flies from the bed. Arthur smiles both at her reaction and at the fact that she is already wringing wet and ready for him.

"Oh!" she shouts, finally releasing her voice as she tears her lips away. His finger finds the firm button of nerves and slides around it, very gently, letting her get used to his touch.

"Oh, God," she moans, pushing her hips into his hand, clearly not wanting him to be so gentle.

He nibbles at her ear with kisses and small bites and he moves his fingers again, slipping one inside her tight warmth, and she finally releases the sheets and grips his shoulders.

 _There we are,_ he thinks, happy to have her fully his again, fully abandoned to sensation.

He withdraws his finger and plunges it in again, repeating the action a few times before pulling it fully out to stroke her sensitive point again.

"Arthur," she says his name and it almost undoes him. He climbs fully over her, nudging his knees in between hers, and she opens wider still, this time without hesitation.

"Touch me again, Guinevere."

Her hand moves, dropping to his waist, where it pauses a moment before she takes him in her hand the way he showed her before, grasping him.

"Move your hand on me now," he whispers, hoping she'll understand what she means.

She does. Gwen slides her strong, slender hand on his length, and when she draws forth a moan from him, she moves faster, holds tighter.

"Whoa, whoa…" he gasps, moving his hand over hers, stilling it. "Too much and I'll…"

"Sorry," she giggles, somewhat pleased with herself.

He drops down and kisses her. "Don't apologize for being wonderful," he says, peppering kisses over her lips, across the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks.

She captures his lips with hers, kissing him fiercely, thrusting her tongue deeply into his mouth. He groans in the back of his throat and meets her passion with his own.

Finally he pulls away, leans his forehead against hers, and says quietly, "I am sorry for the pain."

"I know," she says, kissing him once more as he lowers his hips, reaching down to guide himself into her.

He pushes gently in, and at first Guinevere thinks something is wrong. _It doesn't hurt. He's going to think I'm not a maiden. Oh, God, no, this is…_

"Ah!" she cries out when the pain hits, her eyes flying open. When she sees that Arthur's face looks as pained as she feels, suddenly she is overcome with the need to console him.

"It's okay, Arthur," she says, reaching up for his face, holding it in her hands, "I'm all right, I promise," she lies, the stinging burn still sharp as he body learns to adjust to his.

"Liar," he smiles weakly at her, holding himself up on hands planted on either side of her head.

He watches her, kissing her periodically, waiting until her breathing slows and she relaxes again.

"Better?" he asks, lifting a hand to twine a curl around his finger. He releases it as she nods, caressing her face. He slowly moves his hips, sliding back out a bit experimentally, then back in. She nods her head again and he moves again, more this time.

Sighing, he starts a rhythm within her, slow at first, gradually faster until he finds the pace he wants, still watching Guinevere.

Her eyes flutter closed and she makes another small noise in her throat, and he knows she's okay.

Arthur drops to his elbows, lowering himself so he can kiss her swollen lips some more. She feels his lips touch hers and she tilts her face to meet his, wanting his kisses as much as he wants hers.

Gwen feels the sensations building within her, building to something she's never felt before, something good, something amazing, and she suddenly starts to understand what all the fuss is about.

She lifts her hands and threads them through Arthur's silken hair, now slightly damp with sweat. She runs her fingertips across his scalp and he groans again, so she repeats the action as his lips find her sensitive neck again.

He is thrusting faster again, a little harder now, too. She whimpers again, and Arthur starts to lose control.

"Guinevere… I… I'm sorry… I can't…" Arthur whispers, his face tight, every muscle in his body straining.

"Arthur, what…?" she manages, not understanding why he's apologizing until he suddenly thrusts hard and deep, stilling within her. She can feel a strange pulsing sensation within her as his seed rushes forth into her.

He drops down carefully over her, hiding his face in her hair, burrowing into her neck.

She wraps her arms around him, holding his broad back, closing her eyes, still wondering at the sensations that were building within her, now left hovering, abandoned. Frustrated?

Arthur eases off of her but still holds her tight against him. Neither speaks for several minutes, Arthur out of disappointment with himself, Guinevere out of simply being perplexed by the whole experience.

"Sorry, Love," he finally whispers.

"For what?"

"You did not, um, reach your finish. I could not hold on any longer," he says, still hiding in her neck, in her soft curls.

"I did not expect my first time to be as pleasurable as it was, actually," she admits. "From what I've heard, many women do not enjoy their first time at all."

"But you did not enjoy it as much as you should have," he says.

"We'll have other opportunities," she says simply, suddenly realizing that one of his hands has again gone wandering.

"Surely you must feel… unfulfilled," he says, his hand on her thigh now, his fingers stroking the softness of their inner curve.

She sighs. "There was something building there," she admits, and his hand creeps higher.

"You've never…" He finally lifts his head to look at her.

"No, not to completion, apparently," she says, guessing at his train of thought. Now it is her turn to look away, embarrassed. "I always stopped myself, thinking I was being improper."

"Nothing improper about it," he purrs in her ear as his fingers softly touch her, still slick and slightly swollen.

"Oh!" she gasps, her hips once again unconsciously lifting and tilting into his hand.

"I want you to always have as much pleasure as possible in our marriage bed," he mutters low in her ear, his teeth nipping lightly at the tender shell.

His fingers are gentle, knowing that she may be sore. He wants to slide a couple into her warmth, to feel her surrounding them again, but he chooses to stay centered on the place that will give her the most pleasure, that will bring her the release she is craving.

"You are my wife," he continues talking low and soft, his voice ever a caress, "and I want my wife to be completely and _thoroughly_ satisfied," he says, increasing the pressure with his fingers slightly on the last word.

Gwen moans and arches her back, so Arthur moves his lips back to her breasts, closing his lips around a nipple, adding fuel to the fire already burning hot in her belly.

"Oh…" she gasps, her hand in his hair again, grabbing a fistful.

A few more flicks and swirls of his fingers and Gwen feels the soaring sensation of her release, like the sun itself has risen in her belly, shining its shafts of light out of her fingers and toes, and she cries out loudly, pulling Arthur's hair as she does so.

Arthur stills his fingers and carefully extracts them from her, as her thighs clamped together when her climax hit, trapping them.

"Ow," he says after a minute.

"Sorry," she says, releasing his hair and smoothing it back down, gently placing his head down on her chest where she caresses his face tenderly.

"Better now?" he asks, lifting his head and turning them so she is cradled against him.

"I had no idea," she admits. "Wow."

He chuckles and bends down to kiss her forehead.

"Arthur?" Gwen asks quietly, her head pillowed on his shoulder as they lay together, their limbs still entwined as if they are afraid to break contact.

"Yes, my love?"

"Had you ever, um… done this before?" she asks hesitantly.

He doesn't answer right away, and immediately regrets the question. "Never mind. It's not my business." _What was I thinking? He probably had women throwing themselves at him all the time._

"Once," he says simply, quietly.

"Oh."

"I was seventeen. It was almost a complete disaster," he chuckles now, squeezing her lovingly.

"Who… wait, no. I don't want to know. Really."

He kisses the top of her head. "The lady in question was a few years older, bent on, um, 'making me a man.' She actually no longer lives in Camelot."

"Oh?"

"Not because of that."

"Oh."

Arthur laughs again, enjoying his wife's curiosity. "Guinevere," he says, lifting her chin with one finger. "What's mine is yours. Completely. Ask me anything, tell me anything. Even if it is uncomfortable or you think it may make me angry."

Gwen just smiles in response as she feels her heart swell yet again. He angles his head to kiss her once again and his hand strokes the soft skin of her back, roaming down to rest on her backside, simply because it can.

"I love you, Arthur," she whispers into his lips, her eyelashes tickling his cheek as they flutter against his face.

"I love you, too, Guinevere, my wife," he answers.

Arthur moves to blow out the candles next to the bed, so Gwen reaches for the blankets and pulls them up over them before collapsing, exhausted, against Arthur's shoulder again.

Entwined in the strange bed, they drift off to sleep together, too tired to even spare a thought about Uther or Camelot.

xXx

"Leaving us already?" the innkeeper's wife asks when Merlin asks for their horses to be brought out from the stables.

"Yes, we need to continue our journey, I'm afraid," Merlin says. He's been sitting at a table enjoying more of her excellent cooking while he waits for the newlyweds to emerge from their cocoon.

"Well, don't rush your friends. One only gets one wedding night," she comments, sighing romantically. "Well, one _should_ only get one, if it is done correctly," she amends.

"No need to worry about those two," Merlin comments dryly. "Though they could drag their indulgent backsides out any day now," he mutters, idly considering sending a snowstorm into their room as a tiny hint.

"No need to worry about whom?" Arthur's voice rings out behind him, and Merlin turns.

"About time," he says. Gwen blushes.

"Oh yes, very romantic, you," Arthur says sarcastically. "Pity the woman you marry."

Gwen puts a hand on his arm and gives him a look.

"We need to get going, you know," Merlin says carefully.

"I know," Arthur says.

The innkeeper strides into the room. "Horses are just outside," he declares.

"Thank you," Merlin says. "And thank you for the breakfast," he nods at the innkeeper's wife.

"Here, Loves, I've packed a little something for you," she thrusts a bundle to Arthur, who takes it gratefully.

"Thank you very much," he smiles at her. The bundle is still warm.

"Can't have you traveling on an empty stomach, now," she smiles, looking at Gwen, noting that she looks perfectly happy, not pale or sickly in the least. _The girl is glowing, in fact,_ the thinks, and shoots her husband a dirty look.

"For your troubles," Arthur presses a few coins into the innkeeper's hand.

"Sir, you've paid more than enough already," he protests, but the coins are already in his pocket.

Gwen steps shyly over to the innkeeper's wife, handing the borrowed dress back, neatly folded.

"Keep it. It looked better on you than it ever did on me," she laughs. "And I daresay I couldn't squeeze myself into it anymore anyway."

"Thank you," Gwen says, grateful because she has no other dresses with her. She takes the innkeeper's wife's hand and places a coin in it, whispering, "For the sheet. Um, sorry…"

"Quite all right, Lamb," she says in the way of an understanding mother. _Aha! I was right, Eldon!_ She presses the coin back into Gwen's palm. "Keep your coin, dear. Use it to buy something for your first child."

Gwen smiles, still blushing.

"Let's _go,_ " Merlin urges.

"Strict, that one," the innkeeper's wife laughs.

"You have no idea," Arthur chuckles.

"Thank you again," Gwen says.

The trio walk out the doors into the bright morning sun. Arthur helps Gwen onto her horse and mounts up himself as well.

"Merlin, are you joining us?" he asks, noticing that Merlin hasn't mounted his horse yet.

"Shh," Gwen shushes Arthur. Merlin is peering at the inn, whispering something, his hand outstretched.

He turns towards them and climbs into the saddle. " _Now_ we can go," he declares, and spurs his horse into a walk.

"What did you just do?" Arthur asks.

"Just caused a little confusion, that's all," Merlin answers noncommittally.


	3. Chapter 3

"Where are we, anyway?" Gwen asks, shifting uncomfortably on her saddle. They had been riding for two hours already, and the previous night's activities are disagreeing with her current mode of transportation.

"Cornwall. King Marke's kingdom," Arthur says, glancing over at her. "Are you all right, Love?"

"I could use a break, actually," she says, blushing slightly. Arthur looks a little puzzled, but if his wife wants a break, then a break she shall have.

"All right. Perhaps we can see what else the good innkeeper's wife has packed for us.

They had been munching some fruit and Arthur found a loaf of bread, but it was difficult to eat much else while ahorse.

"Merlin," Arthur calls ahead, "Guinevere needs a rest."

"Okay," Merlin stops his horse and waits until they catch him up before dismounting.

Arthur dismounts next, handing the reins to Merlin before going to assist Gwen. He reaches up and swings her down. She winces a bit.

"Are you all right?" he asks quietly, his finger stroking her cheek.

"I'm… a little sore, actually," she admits, blushing and looking down.

"Sore?" Arthur asks, his brow furrowing.

She looks up at him through her lashes and realization dawns. _Oh. OH._ "Sorry. Perhaps we shouldn't have… again… this morning," he stammers, blushing now as well.

"It was fun, though," she grins, flushing further. Arthur stares, his mouth agape.

"Uh…"

"Ahem," Merlin says quietly behind them. _Perhaps I should have made them wait till we reached our destination before letting them get married,_ he thinks hopelessly.

"Sorry, Merlin," Gwen apologizes. Merlin, to his credit, ignores her flushed cheeks and dilated eyes, taking her horse's reins from Arthur.

"I think there's a stream just there," he points. "I'll take the horses and let them drink."

"Wait," Arthur says, reaching in his saddle bag for the parcel from the innkeeper's wife.

"I'll be back _soon,_ " Merlin emphasizes the last word, so they don't think they can get up to anything in his absence.

"Not quite how I pictured spending the first days of our marriage," Arthur says, sitting down on a log, patting the space beside him.

"I'd like to stand a bit, thanks," Gwen says, chuckling now.

"Indeed. Pie?" he withdraws a small pie, hand-sized, from the pack.

"Thank you," she says. "Wonder if it's meat or fruit?" she muses idly, not really caring which it is.

She takes a bite. "Fruit," she declares, smiling.

"What kind?" Arthur asks, grabbing another, eyeing it expectantly.

"Fig."

"Oh." He puts it back in and starts fishing around for something else.

"You don't like figs," Gwen laughs. She's not asking; she knows already. She knows all his likes and dislikes. "Maybe she has other kinds in there," she says, hopefully.

"Well, the only way to tell would be to break each one open and look, and that wouldn't be very… nice…" he trails slowly off, his attention suddenly elsewhere.

"Arthur?" she asks quietly.

"Shh. Let's go find Merlin," he stands and takes her hand, pulling her with him into the forest, further from the trail.

They meet Merlin halfway, and Arthur immediately puts his finger to his lips to silence him.

"What is it?" Merlin whispers once they are close enough.

"People. On the path," Arthur says. "I don't want to take any chances."

"Right. I'm going to go closer and listen," Merlin says, thrusting the reins of the three horses into Arthur's hand and striding silently away before Arthur can react.

"When did he get to be so brave?" Arthur whispers to Gwen. "And so quiet?"

"He doesn't have to hide who he is anymore, Arthur," she whispers back, leaning up to kiss his jaw.

Merlin creeps towards the road, crouching behind a large tree.

"…going to be pleased with this stag, that's for certain," a gruff but friendly voice reaches his ears.

"I hope she makes some of those fine venison sausages this time. You'll do up these grouse for me, won't you, Bartley?" a second voice asks.

"Of course, Sherman. We still owe you for that lamb you traded us," Bartley answers.

"That lamb had a broken leg. There wasn't much else for him," Sherman replies sadly.

"I know, but with your struggling right now…"

"Bart, I don't need charity. As soon as I can sell my brother's farm, I'll be right back on my feet. Plus, Myla's been spinning like mad, getting as much yarn as she can make to take to the marketplace."

Merlin listens. _Farm for sale?_ He stands, and as casually as he can, saunters out to meet the men.

"Oh!" he jumps in surprise. "Sorry, you startled me," he lies, striving to look as sweet and as non-bandit-like as possible. It's not difficult for him.

"Hello, stranger," the one with Bartley's voice speaks. The two men stop. Bartley is large and thickly-muscled, but with a kind, but red, face and speckled grey hair. His companion, Sherman, is thinner and shorter with black hair and warm brown skin.

"Are you lost?" Sherman asks, noting the boy's innocent and slightly befuddled expression.

"No, just traveling. Took a break to water the horses, and I happened to catch a small part of your conversation as I was returning to the road. Unintentionally, of course."

"Oh?" Bartley asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Um, sorry. You said something about a farm to sell?" he asks Sherman.

"Aye. Are you looking to buy a farm, lad?"

"Not me, but my cousin and her husband. They're with me, still back with the horses. Would you be kind enough to wait while I fetch them?"

"If it means selling my brother's farm, yeah, I'll wait."

Merlin disappears.

"Arthur! Gwen! Come on, I think I just found us a home," Merlin calls softly.

"What?" Gwen asks.

"There's a man passing on the road with a farm to sell," he explains, taking his horse from Arthur. The trio pick their way back to the road.

"Thank you for waiting," Merlin says as they appear. Both sets of eyes fall on Arthur, then Gwen, lingering appreciatively for a moment on the lovely girl.

"I'm Marden," Merlin holds his hand out to Sherman, then Bartley, who both shake and are both impressed by the strength behind the pale, thin man's grip.

"My cousin Goldevia," he indicates Gwen, who nods and smiles.

"Ma'am," both men nod respectively to her.

"And her husband Aldwin." Arthur steps forward and shakes both men's hands.

"Nice to meet you," he says, looking each straight in the eye, finding them both to be decent, hard-working sorts who have nothing to hide. _That's a relief,_ he finds himself thinking.

"Marden tells me you are looking for a farm?" Sherman asks, straight to business. He doesn't care where they are coming from or what they are doing, and that knowledge is a welcome comfort to the trio.

"Yes, I am. You have one you are looking to unload?" Arthur asks.

Sherman chuckles. "Indeed I do. Perhaps you'd like to accompany us? I'm afraid you'll have to travel slower, since we will not be able to keep up with your horses, but it is only a short distance."

"The young lady may certainly ride, if she wishes," Bartley says, smiling warmly at Gwen.

"I prefer to walk, but thank you for your kind thought," she says, smiling back.

Arthur hides his smirk behind a cough and his hand.

"Lead the way, my good man," Arthur recovers himself.

They head out, and Arthur compliments Bartley and Sherman on their quarry, and soon the three men are discussing hunting animatedly.

Gwen grabs Merlin's elbow. "Cousin?" she whispers to him.

"I thought it best if we presented ourselves as being related somehow. We don't know anything about these people or their village and don't know if they would find it scandalous for a woman to be living with two men, even if one is her husband," he explains.

"Very smart, Merlin. You could have been Arthur's brother or something," she smiles, knowing full well that that's how they think of one another anyway.

"No. If I am _your_ kin, then there is absolutely no chance for scandal," he says emphatically.

"Thank you," she says, looping her hand into his elbow now, touched that he would worry about her reputation so. "And I suppose passing yourself off as _my_ brother just wouldn't be realistic at all, would it?" she jokes.

Merlin laughs. "Not really. Cousin is stretching it enough. Though I do think of you like a sister, Gwen."

"Thank you, Merlin. I feel the same."

"Sirs, what is the name of this village?" Gwen calls ahead.

Bartley turns back. "Lyonesse, Goldevia. On the very tip of Cornwall," he announces, just as they reach the edge of the forest.

Gwen gasps, a smile coming over her face as she gazes on the village. It is quaint and picturesque, with cozy houses and a marketplace she can hear more than see at this point. The world seems to drop away on the far side of it, and beyond, nothing but blue.

Arthur looks back at her, a smile spreading across his face as he watches her dancing eyes.

"Aldwin?" Bartley asks.

"She's never seen the sea," he says quietly, smiling.

"Yes, 'tis a lovely sight indeed," Bartley agrees. "Both the sea and your missus, if I may say."

"Indeed," Arthur agrees, dropping back to join Gwen for a moment.

"You like it," he says, smiling indulgently at her. _If I were still a prince, I would hand this to you on a silver platter._

"Yes," she whispers. "I want to go to the edge of those cliffs and look out over the sea."

"Later, I promise," he says, lifting her chin to kiss her sweetly. He turns back to their hosts, looking at Sherman now. "Somehow I think we'll be buying this farm from you regardless of how it looks," he declares, and the men, both happily married, laugh knowingly. They start walking again.

"Smart man," Sherman chuckles. "Keep the wife happy. Most important thing in a marriage."

"How long have you been married?" Bartley asks. "Not long, from the looks of you."

"Just under one day," Arthur says, peering up at the position of the sun momentarily.

"Indeed," Bartley echoes now.

"There," Sherman points to a cozy cottage, in need of a little care, but otherwise tidy. There is a modest-sized field and a small barn.

Arthur looks at Gwen, who is smiling. He can see the happy tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

"There are three rooms inside, too," Sherman says, selling it now, knowing that the extra room is just what they need given their living situation.

" _Three?_ " Gwen gasps, blinking.

Merlin watches this all with interest. His only thought is _I won't have to sleep in the barn!_

"How much?" Arthur asks, reaching for just one of the many purses of money he'd absconded with when they left.

xXx

"You've searched everywhere?" Uther snaps at Sir Leon, now the commander of the Knights of Camelot in Arthur's absence.

"The entire kingdom, Sire. It's like they just… disappeared," Leon says cautiously. _I don't think I like having to answer directly to him all the time._

"What of the night guards? They had no explanation?"

"No, Sire," he sighs. _We've been over this already. Twice._ "No one has any recollection of seeing them. Any of them. Guinevere's cell was opened using the key. She was in the cell, then she wasn't. Arthur and Merlin were in the castle, then they weren't."

"Magic. She is a witch, I am certain."

"My lord," Leon says carefully. "Guinevere and I grew up together. Her mother was my family's maid. I'm certain that Gwen is no witch; I have known her my whole life. No one is kinder or more true of heart."

"You defy me?" Uther thunders.

"Simply stating my opinion, Sire."

"Perhaps she has enchanted you as well," he says suspiciously.

"I hardly think so, considering she's gone," Leon says. _I shouldn't have said that._

"Get out," Uther orders sharply. "Send patrols to the neighboring kingdoms. Ask all that you encounter. Inquire at inns. Find them."

"Yes, Sire," Leon nods, clenching his jaw. "Sire?" he asks.

"What?"

"If they are found and returned, what do you intend to do with them?"

"Arthur will be severely disciplined, and the servants will be executed."

Leon blanches. "What would the charge be, Sire?"

"Kidnapping the prince," he snaps. "And I told you to get out."

"Sire," Leon bows and turns, striding quickly from the throne room.

_I wish they'd taken me with them. Arthur can be bossy and kind of a prat sometimes, but he at least has a heart. Gwen isn't a witch. There's no way. And Merlin? He's a nice enough lad, but fairly talentless. I wonder why Arthur let him tag along if he was planning on eloping with Gwen._

As Leon heads for the knights' quarters, he realizes that he's actually happy for Arthur and Gwen.

 _She will be good for him. He needs someone like her to keep his less appealing qualities at bay._ He remembers accidentally witnessing a couple conversations between them, thinking it odd that the prince would talk to a humble serving girl, much less seek her counsel. _But he did, and she proved herself to be thoughtful and wise. Not that I'm terribly surprised. She has always been smart._

He rounds the corner and, as he enters the large room, he makes a decision.

xXx

"Eldon, there are knights outside," the innkeeper's wife calls to her husband. He comes lumbering out to the main room of the inn, smoothing his stained apron.

"Did you say knights, Hollis?"

"Looks like knights from Camelot," she says, peering out the window.

Two enter the inn, a tall, slender knight with longish brown curls and a short beard and another, shorter knight, stocky with black hair.

"Pardon the intrusion, my good man," the tall knight addresses the innkeeper, nodding at his wife.

"Not at all. Knights of Camelot are always welcome in my inn," the innkeeper says, bowing slightly.

"Thank you. I am Sir Leon, and this is Sir Bors. We are looking for some travelers that may have passed through here a few days ago."

"We get lots of travelers passing through here, my lord," the innkeeper says, though not disrespectfully.

"I understand. This would have been three people together, two men and a woman." Leon presses a few coins into the man's hand.

Eldon and Hollis look at each other a moment. Hollis speaks first. "There were two men and a woman here just last week, my lord. Didn't say where they were from; didn't say where they were headed."

"Do you remember their names?"

"I don't believe they gave any names, my lord."

"When did they arrive? What time of day?"

"It was midday, wasn't it Eldon?" she looks at her husband, her mind suddenly going cloudy on her.

"Nah, 'twas nearly dusk," he says, furrowing his brow as well, scraping to remember.

"Yes, of course…" Hollis agrees, blinking in confusion.

"Hmm," Sir Leon says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, looking at his companion.

"Doesn't time out right," Sir Bors says, frowning.

"What did they look like? Do you recall?"

"Yes!" Hollis exclaims, her face brightening. "She was a lovely sweet thing, slender…" she pauses, her cheerful expression falling again.

"Was she petite, with tan skin and dark curly hair?" Leon prods.

She thinks. "No. She was tall. Long blonde hair, wavy but not curly. Fair skin. One of her companions was darker, though. I think he was a relative somehow, they were close. Acted like family. He had dark hair, and he was taller than her, but not very. Built 'bout like you, there, Sir," she says, nodding at Sir Bors. She looks to her husband, who is nodding his agreement.

"Yes, that's right. She was all golden and her friend was dark. Her other companion, which I figured to be her lover, was very fair, tall but powerfully built, with black hair and dark eyes."

"Oh yes, handsome devil, he was. Quite charming as well; sweet as pie, him," Hollis agrees.

"Not them," Leon frowns, turning to Bors, motioning towards the door. "Thank you for your time all the same," he says back to them.

"May I ask who it is you are looking for, my lord?" Hollis asks.

"Hollis!" Eldon chastises her boldness.

"It's quite all right. We're looking for Prince Arthur. He's gone missing. We have reason to believe that he is traveling with his manservant and the Lady Morgana's maid."

"Oh, my!" she exclaims. "That is serious business. I will keep my eyes and ears open, my lord, and if we see or hear anything of their whereabouts, we will send word."

"Thank you. We do hope they are well," Leon adds, and the innkeeper and his wife can see the concern on the knight's face. "Thank you, again, and good day," he says and exits.

Outside, Leon looks at Bors. "This is a waste of time," he says. "If Arthur doesn't want to be found, he won't be. I know him better than any of the knights, and if _I_ can't even track him down…"

"Can't master the Master," Bors agrees, sighing heavily, mounting his horse. "Can't use the tricks of the trade to track the man who taught us those tricks."

"Bors," Leon says, looking to his companion, "you're still with me, right?"

"Of course," he nods, almost offended that Leon has asked again. "If we find him, we stay with him. I've had it with Uther."

"And if we don't find him?" Bors adds, looking to Leon.

"I'm still not sure I want to go back even then. Come on. Let's head west. If nothing else, we can appeal to King Marke and see if he needs a couple capable knights."


	4. Chapter 4

"Dinner!" Guinevere calls from the doorway of the modest house the three of them have been sharing for this last month and a half.

Arthur and Merlin lift their heads, grateful to be able to come in out of the sun. The cool breeze drifting from the sea helps cool their skin, but the sun is relentless. Arthur's skin has turned golden from the exposure and his hair is a shade lighter. Merlin has put on a few pounds of muscle and has a perpetual sunburn.

Arthur splashes in the water barrel, cooling himself and removing the outermost layer of sweat and grime from his chest and face before grabbing his shirt from where it is carelessly hanging on a fence post.

Merlin follows suit, cleaning only his face and neck. He learned the hard way that he needs to leave his shirt on when working outside.

"Honestly Merlin, you'd think you'd be able to magic yourself some sort of way to not get burned every day," Arthur says, flicking his shirt at him.

"We've managed to stay inconspicuous for nearly two moons now, _Aldwin,_ and I'm not going to risk our solitude and peace by poking skunks."

"Poking skunks?" Arthur looks sideways at him. "Just when I think you've said your last weird thing…"

He enters the house and immediately crosses to Gwen, dishing up food from the stove, and kisses her cheek, his arm wrapping around her waist for a squeeze.

"You stink," she says.

"And I love you, too," he chuckles, kissing her neck before going to sit at the table.

"Mmm, who was the unlucky victim tonight?" Merlin asks, leaning forward to smell the delicious chicken placed in front of him.

Gwen turns around and sighs. "I do wish you hadn't _named_ the chickens, Merlin. It makes it just that much more gruesome when I have to butcher one."

Arthur and Merlin laugh. "We didn't give them _nice_ names," he protests.

"I know. This one was Cenred, I think," she sighs, sitting.

"Excellent," Arthur says, rubbing his hands together.

 _Once a warrior, always a warrior,_ Gwen thinks, chuckling a bit now herself.

After dinner Arthur and Gwen walk to the nearby cliffs overlooking the sea while Merlin cleans up. He always offers, shooing them out the door, giving them time together and giving him time alone, which they all need. He sits and relaxes while the dishes clean themselves and put themselves away.

"Do you regret leaving?" Gwen asks, her arms wrapped around her husband's waist as they stand, watching the waves crash on the rocks, the ocean air blowing her curls from her shoulders.

"No. Sometimes. Maybe. I don't know if 'regret' is exactly the word for it," he answers, his hand stroking small circles on her back. "My only regret is that my father couldn't allow us to be together like this in Camelot."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?" she asks. "There is a big difference."

Arthur ponders this. "Wouldn't," he allows with a sigh. "He's the king. He could have changed the rules. But he wouldn't. So I will."

Gwen nods, resting her head on his chest. They listen to the roar of the sea, the cries of sea-birds as they dive and swoop.

Arthur winds a lock of her hair around his hand, feeling the strands in his fingers. He dips his head and smells her hair.

Gwen smiles, remembering the first time he did that. _Our wedding night. In that inn._

She giggles a little, and he looks at her.

"Something funny?"

"I was just thinking about the first time I caught you smelling my hair like that."

"Ah. The inn."

"You were so sweet. I hadn't realized that you were…"

"Nervous?" he supplies.

"Somewhat inexperienced," she grins at him, and he blushes. "Not that it mattered, of course. I was merely surprised."

He shrugs. "I only ever wanted you. And before that, I honestly never had any time for… dalliances. Well, except the one."

"We seemed to do pretty well," she jokes as he turns her, pulling her into both his arms so she is facing him, pressing her small body against his.

"Yes, indeed," he bends his head and kisses her. "And we keep getting better at it, too," he says, grinning against her lips, nibbling, remembering his eager hands and hips, her conflict over wanting him but not wanting to appear improper, him coaxing the impropriety out of her, wanting her to enjoy herself as much as he was.

The thoughts and memories spin inside his head as he slips his tongue in between Gwen's lips, bringing forth a faint whimper from the back of her throat that Arthur has learned to love hearing and, in fact, strives to bring forth as much as possible.

A twig snaps behind them, and they are snapped out of their world, pulling apart, grinning and looking sheepish.

"Evening, Aldwen, Goldie," their friend local butcher, out for his evening walk, nods at them as he passes, a knowing smile crossing his weathered face.

"Evening, Bartley," Arthur says as Gwen returns to his side. She smiles at the man as he passes them to continue along the path that follows the cliff.

"There may be gossip tomorrow," Gwen giggles as they walk back to the house.

"Probably," Arthur shrugs.

"You don't actually care, do you?" she chuckles at him.

"Not in the slightest. So what if we were kissing on the cliff? We're married. It's not like you're a serving girl and I'm a prince or anything," he jokes.

"Good point," she agrees, smiling. Then she looks at him. "You kind of _hope_ there will be, don't you?"

"A little," he admits.

"Arthur, the little misunderstanding with the beekeeper's son was two weeks ago. He was mortified to learn that I was married and still avoids me whenever our paths happen to cross."

"I know."

"And your very existence scares him out of his skin anyway. So I think the village has gotten the idea that I am well-looked-after."

"I know." He sighs.

"You're bored." The realization hits her.

"A bit. I meant it when I said I didn't regret leaving. But…"

They have reached their house now, and are standing outside the front door.

"But this life is too quiet for you, I know," she says kindly, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

 _That always makes me feel better,_ he realizes as soon as her hand touches his face.

"I could scare up some griffins or something, if that would help," Merlin offers from the doorway. Gwen jumps.

"Merlin!" Arthur snaps.

"Shh!" Gwen shushes him. "Marden, remember?"

Arthur makes an exasperated noise. "I hate those names. Especially mine."

"I know, love," Gwen says softly, taking his hand and pulling him inside, to the privacy of the cottage.

xXx

"Going to bed," Merlin declares, stretching. Gwen can't help but notice that he's put on a bit of muscle since they've been there. _Must be all the hard work._

"Goodnight, dear Merlin," Gwen says, kissing his cheek.

"Merlin," Arthur nods at him.

"Clotpole," Merlin answers back, shutting his door behind him.

Gwen looks at the gown she had been stitching earlier. She quickly gained a reputation as a fine seamstress, and has no shortage of people asking for her work. This particular gown is for a wedding next week. Sherman's eldest daughter is marrying Bartley's youngest son, coincidentally enough, and as soon as they got wind of Guinevere's skills, they enlisted her services to stitch a fine wedding gown for her.

"Too dark, Guinevere," Arthur says, reading her thoughts. "Your eyes will fall out of your head."

"I know," she sighs. "I just wish I were further along with it."

"You're nearly done," he says, poking the fire a bit.

"Yes, I am." She picks up the garment and folds it neatly, setting it on her sewing basket.

"Besides," Arthur says, pulling her down into his lap, "I can think of a better use for your hands right now. We have unfinished business, you and I." He takes her hands in his, massaging them gently, feeling the small callous on her fingertip that has built up from pushing a needle through fabric over and over. He kisses it, then the rest of her fingers in turn, followed by her palms, left, then right.

"Come to bed," he whispers against her neck, his lips brushing the skin there. Before she can even answer, he stands, hoisting her easily in his arms, and carries her to their room on the opposite side of the cottage, closing the door and locking it.

The familiar blue line traces the room, triggered by the lock. Merlin's permanent soundproofing spell, tied to the lock on their door, ensuring everyone's privacy.

Gwen doesn't know if his enchantment is based on thoughtfulness or embarrassment, but whenever she happens to think about it, she's in no frame of mind to pursue it.

Arthur makes quick work of her simple dress, peeling it from her shoulders, kissing the skin as it is revealed to him. Gwen is just as adept at his garments, pulling and tossing them aside.

"You'd make a good maidservant," Gwen teases. "You've gotten very good at assisting with my dresses."

"Mainly at removing them," he says huskily, chuckling at her carelessness with his things when his trousers bounce off the wall and land in a heap on the floor.

He moves her to the bed, crawling over her, laying her back with his kisses. She closes her eyes and throws her arms up over her head, abandoned to him, surrendering to his decadent assault.

Arthur trails soft, wet kisses over her skin, his hands sliding, caressing. He kisses her breasts, kneading one tenderly with his hand while suckling the other, drawing a contented sigh from her parted lips.

"Arthur," she whispers, lowering one hand to tangle in his hair, bending one knee to slide against his hip and wrap around his leg.

He hums his approval into her breasts, switching sides now, his free hand dropping between her legs now to touch her. Gwen arches her back against him, needing his attention, his love.

"Guinevere," he groans, moving back to kiss her lips, those lips that he loves so much, first taking her upper lip between his, sucking gently at it, then the lower, biting just slightly.

Gwen presses her lips against him, thrusting her tongue deep inside his mouth, his torment too much. Her hand slides down between them and she grasps him, sliding the tip of him along her moist folds, nudging his hand out of the way.

"Oh…" Arthur groans. "I love it when you do that," he manages, and she does it again, and once more before placing it at her entrance, waiting for him.

 _Anticipation._ The word flits through her brain as she waits for what seems like an eternity for him to drop his hips and thrust forward.

In reality it is mere seconds, seconds of sweet anticipation before he moves, filling her, completing her.

"Mmm…" she voices her appreciation, moving her hands to his arms, gripping his biceps for a moment before sliding her hands down his arms.

He captures her hands in his, twining their fingers together before leaning against them, pinning them gently on either side of her head.

Arthur kisses her then, hungrily, deeply, as he increases his speed and intensity, groaning as her nails dig into the backs of his hands.

 _That's going to leave marks, but I don't care,_ he vaguely thinks, leaning down again, this time to gently bite her earlobe and otherwise nibble her delectable ears.

"Oh… ah…" her breath is coming shallow and noisy and she's pushing at his hands now, but he holds fast, not releasing them. Instead he tucks his head and captures a breast between his lips, tugging lightly at the taut nipple, swirling his tongue around it.

"Oh!" she cries out now, arching again, pushing her breast further into his mouth. He bites it just hard enough, driving deeply into her as he does so, and her thighs tighten around him.

"Arthur!" she cries out, her hips bucking up into him, her muscles tightening around him, pulsating with her release.

He thrusts a few more times before stilling with a groan, buried deep within her, his seed rushing forth into her.

Arthur sinks over her, his head on her shoulder, and he finally releases her hands. She wraps them around his shoulders immediately, holding him tenderly.

"Why didn't you let my hands go?" she asks, tracing lines up and down his back with her fingertips.

"Sorry," he apologizes, lifting his head.

"No, um, I liked it, actually," she confesses, biting her lip.

He grins smugly, then places his head back on her shoulder.

"Arrogant," she says, tugging a lock of his hair. His chuckle reverberates against her chest, the contractions of his stomach muscles against hers makes her laugh in spite of herself.

"Woah," he blinks in surprise as her laughter pushes him out of her.

"That's… different," she agrees, but for some reason she is still laughing.

He finally rolls off of her, pulling her with him, keeping her close.

"Blanket," she says, and he releases her to pull the blanket up over them.

"I love you so much, Guinevere," he says softly, his eyelids heavy now.

"I love you, too, Arthur," she answers. She lifts her face and kisses his chin, finding that he has already drifted to sleep. She smiles and snuggles in against him, closing her own eyes now, joining his slumber, locked in his embrace.

xXx

"Well, as I live and breathe, if it isn't Princess Esmeralda," a familiar voice drawls behind Gwen as she leans over a bin of apples, looking for the best ones.

 _Oh, no,_ she thinks, but carefully schools her features to look appropriately puzzled before she turns around to face Gwaine.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you must have me mistaken for someone else. I am but a _simple farmer's wife,_ " she answers, uttering the last bit politely but through clenched teeth, fixing him in a stare that actually makes his head hurt a little.

He opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. "My mistake, good woman. You see, from behind you resembled a princess I met once upon a time, but now that I see your face I know you cannot be her. You see, you are much more beautiful than she."

"I am flattered, but please keep in mind that I am a married woman and that my husband is _quite strong and very good with a sword,_ " she answers, emphasizing her words again.

"Is this bloke bothering you, Goldie?" the fruit vendor asks, stepping over.

She turns and smiles at him. "No, James, he's not, thank you. Just a case of mistaken identity; no cause for alarm. I'll just take these, then." She presses a coin into his palm, and he smiles at her, reaching down for one more apple and setting it in her basket.

"James…" she protests. He just winks at her and waves her off.

"So," she turns back to her old friend, "what brings you to our humble village?"

"Oh, I wander where my feet take me, chatting to beautiful ladies and finding work where I can to earn a little coin for my pockets," he shrugs, grinning that devilish grin of his.

"Well, I'm sure my husband and my cousin would welcome some help on our farm, if you are not opposed to a little hard work?" she asks, looking at him pointedly, her eyes telling him that she will explain everything behind closed doors. He notices she is speaking clearly and plainly, so that anyone around might hear her words and buy her story.

"Your husband and your… cousin?" he asks, raising his eyebrows. He takes her basket from her and they walk through the market, back to her house.

"Yes," she sighs, thinking, _come on, man._ "My husband _Aldwin_ and my cousin _Marden._ "

He presses his lips together, eyes twinkling.

"Don't you dare laugh, Gwaine, or so help me I will scream bloody murder right now and you will be carried away to the stocks or worse," she mutters, pinching him.

"Ouch!" he exclaims, but quietly, rubbing his arm. "And what is _your_ name, good lady?" he asks, his eyes still betraying his amusement.

"Goldevia," she says, "but most people have taken to calling me Goldie."

"Hey, that's cute. Well, _Goldie,_ I'm Gwaine," he grins, nodding at her. "Or should I adopt a false name as well?" he mutters conspiratorially.

She rolls her eyes but smiles nevertheless, ushering him out of the marketplace. "This way," she points, "just over that small hill there."

They chat a little more easily outside of the bustle and listening ears of the marketplace, but Gwen will give away no details about why they are here.

"Inside," is all she'll say.

She waves to Arthur and Merlin, who are both attending the lone scrawny ox they recently acquired. They wave back and both their hands stop in mid-air and drop when they see who is with her.

"Is that Gwaine?" Arthur asks.

"Looks like," Merlin says, shielding his eyes with his hand.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

"What the hell does he do anywhere, Arthur? The man is a perpetual wanderer."

"Come on. Let's go find out."

"Arthur. We have to at least finish this row," Merlin reminds him, and Arthur scowls but prods the ox along nevertheless.

"I'd rather look into the eyes of a dragon than into the backside of this ox any day," he complains, swatting back at the tail that has just swished into his face. "You did that on purpose!" he accuses the beast.

Merlin just laughs at him and pats the ox on the shoulder. "Yes, Arthur, I'm sure he did."

xXx

Gwen and Gwaine wait inside for the other two. Gwen fixes a pot of tea for everyone, bustling slightly anxiously in the kitchen.

"Gwen, what's going on?" Gwaine finally asks.

"Wait for Arthur and Merlin," she tells him. He pouts. "And get your dirty boots off my table!"

He drops his feet with a _thump_ and makes a grand show of wiping the edge of the table with his sleeve. Gwen throws an apple at his head, but he simply catches it, his lightning-fast reflexes no match for her surprisingly accurate aim.

"Good arm," he says, taking a bite.

Merlin and Arthur enter just then, and Arthur first greets his wife, kissing her softly, then his guest, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Like a bad coin, you are," he jokes. "And eating our food already, I see."

"Nice to see you, too, Princess," Gwaine answers, taking a pointed bite of the apple. "Merlin," he turns, and hugs the former servant warmly.

"All right, sit down," Gwen says, setting out cups for everyone. "Merlin, if you please."

He nods, then glances at Gwaine.

"He's going to find out anyway, Merlin," Gwen says softly.

Merlin's eyes flash and his soundproofing spell surrounds the house. Just to be safe.

"What. Was. That?" Gwaine asks.

"It turns out our Merlin has been hiding a little secret from us," Arthur says. Merlin and Gwen are actually impressed at his ability to joke about it now.

"Little? Merlin, you're… you're a wizard? A bloody _wizard?_ " Gwaine sputters, spraying little bits of apple on the table. Gwen reaches for a cloth and tosses it at him.

"I prefer 'warlock,' actually," Merlin says calmly, "but yes. Always have been. Born with magic, so as you can imagine, I have little choice in the matter."

"Wow. I mean… wow. What did you just do?"

"Soundproofing. No one passing outside will hear anything we say."

"Brilliant," Gwaine smiles. "What else can you do?" he asks, leaning forward.

"Gwaine, focus," Gwen reminds him. "Do you or do you not want to know what we're doing here?"

"Oh yeah. You can give me a demonstration later."

Arthur rolls his eyes. Then he launches into the story. The picnic, that's where it started. The interruption, the poultice. Gwen's trial.

"Did I tell you that when they were dragging me out of the throne room I saw Morgana smile?" Gwen interrupts, remembering that she told Merlin but never got a chance to tell Arthur.

"What?" Arthur and Gwaine both ask.

"It was like she was pleased I was heading to my death. Very pleased." She picks at the edge of her cup with her nails.

"I told you I didn't trust her, Arthur," Merlin adds darkly.

"But… you and Morgana… you were more than just her maidservant, I know it…" Arthur says, confused.

"I thought so as well. But the look on her face… it was almost… victorious. Like it was she who orchestrated my downfall."

"Perhaps she did," Gwaine muses.

"What?" Arthur turns to him.

"Well, you said that this mysterious 'poultice' appeared under your pillow. We know Gwen didn't put it there, she needs no outside help to make people love her," he winks at her. "Morgana would have been able to access your chambers quite easily, being the king's ward. If her intention was to get rid of Gwen, it would have been very easy for her, indeed."

"Yes," Merlin agrees. "It had to have been her. She is not the same person she was before she disappeared with Morgause. There is darkness in her. I can feel it."

No one argues Merlin's feelings any more.

"Why?" Arthur asks.

"Morgana knows that Gwen is destined to be Queen of Camelot. She somehow thinks that _she_ should be on the throne. She has… prophetic dreams. She has magic, too, Arthur."

"How do you know all this?" Arthur eyes him skeptically.

Merlin sighs. "You need to first promise me you won't get mad."

"I'm getting mad already, Merlin."

Gwen puts her hand over Arthur's, calming him.

"The Great Dragon is still alive."

"WHAT?" Arthur stands, knocking his chair over in the process. Gwen bends to right it, glancing uneasily at Gwaine. She notices he is watching Arthur very carefully, and somehow it makes her feel better.

"Arthur, sit down," Gwen says softly, taking his hand.

"You told me I dealt him a mortal blow!"

"I lied. Sorry. I had to. Please sit, Arthur," Merlin says, quite calmly.

Arthur sits.

"The dragon is our ally now, Arthur. I promise you," Merlin says.

"Oh really. What did you do, say, 'Oh, please, Mister Dragon, King Uther didn't mean to imprison you and he's ever so sorry, will you be my friend?'"

"Arthur…" Gwen chastises him, glaring at Gwaine now, who is stifling his laughter.

"No," Merlin says, ignoring the other two. "I ordered him to never harm Camelot again." He takes a breath and heaves a sigh. "I'm a dragonlord, Arthur."

"A what?" Gwen asks.

"A dragonlord," Merlin says. "Remember Balinor, the man we were seeking, the man that died before he could reach Camelot? The dragonlord?"

Gwen nods.

"He was my father. When he died, the power passed to me."

Gwen gasps, her hands over her mouth. Arthur is dumbstruck and Gwaine is mainly confused, but enjoying the show nevertheless.

"I'm so sorry, Merlin," Gwen says, taking his hand.

"It's all right. I didn't know he was my father until we went searching for him. Gaius told me just before we left."

"That explains your odd behavior on that trip," Arthur says quietly. He looks rather contrite.

"I couldn't tell you," Merlin says. "I wanted to. I've wanted to tell you – everything – for so long now."

"Did he know that you were his son?" Gwen asks.

Merlin nods. "Once I told him."

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Arthur says quietly.

"It's all right. At least I got to meet him, talk to him before he died. More than I ever expected," he says quietly, wiping his eyes.

"Anyway," he says, recovering, "Kilgarrah – that's the dragon's name – he helps me. When I have questions. He's warned me about Morgana."

"And you couldn't say anything because the only proof you have is the word of a dragon that was supposed to be dead," Gwaine finally speaks.

"Exactly," Merlin says.

"Odras did warn us, too," Gwen adds.

"Who is Odras?" Gwaine asks.

"The Druid priest who married us," Arthur says.

"You found a Druid priest to marry you?" Gwaine asks, impressed.

Merlin nods. "The Druids know me," he explains. "They look out for me, I think. Odras wanted me to find him."

"Obviously, or you wouldn't have found him," Gwaine nods.

"Will you stay with us, at least for a while?" Gwen asks him.

"You're not going to order me to stay, now that I know all your secrets?" he raises his eyebrow at Arthur.

"I can't order anyone to do anything here. I'm not a prince here," Arthur shrugs. "Just a somewhat bored farmer who does as his wife bids him."

"Gwaine, you already know who we are and where we are, and if you leave, we trust you will keep it to yourself. I'm sure Uther has sent search parties," Merlin says.

"Not even if they torture me. Of course, they'd have to catch me first." He grins. "But yes, I'll stay."

"Good. You'll have to take the floor until we can get another bed in my room," Merlin says, "unless you prefer the barn."

"Hmm, tough choice. I think I'll take the floor of a warm house over a drafty barn."


	5. Chapter 5

"So how is your new man working out, Goldie?" Sherman asks. He and his wife have brought their daughter to try her dress, two days before her wedding.

"Very well, thanks," she says politely.

"I was surprised that Aldwin would be willing to let him stay in the house with you. He seems very… protective of you," he prods gently.

"And this… Gwaine, is it? He's very handsome, there's no arguing that, but he always looks like he's up to something. He seems to be a bit of a scoundrel," Myla, Sherman's wife, comments, smirking impishly.

"I wouldn't say 'scoundrel,' exactly. More of a scamp," Gwen chuckles. "But he's been nothing but a gentleman to me, I assure you. Fleta, do you need help?" she calls through the door.

"Almost done," a muffled voice calls back, then the door opens. "I do need help with the back."

Gwen goes to assist as Myla beams at her daughter, and continues to defend Gwaine. "Besides, Gwaine knows that if he were to even look at me with anything other than polite respect, Aldwin would run him through without a second thought," she says, but she is joking.

"See? Protective, that one. He's a good husband," Sherman nods approvingly.

"Gwaine and Marden seem to get on famously," Myla comments. "They've already been spotted in the tavern on more than one occasion."

 _Yes, and Merlin better keep him in line,_ Gwen thinks. "Fleta, you look lovely. That dress flatters you perfectly, if I do say so myself." _Change the subject._

"Yes, Little Bird, you are beautiful," Sherman agrees, surreptitiously wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

"It's perfect," Fleta sighs, twirling.

"Now go change before you soil it. Oh, but first," Myla says, reaches into a satchel they had brought and withdraws a beautiful woolen blanket, red. "For you, Goldie."

"But… this is too much, Myla. You paid me already for the dress…" Gwen says quietly.

"It's from Fleta, not from us," Sherman explains.

"Did you make this?" Gwen asks, running her hand over the soft wool. _This is finer, more beautiful work than the weavers in Camelot do,_ she thinks.

Fleta nods bashfully. "What kind of a shepherd's daughter would I be if I couldn't spin and weave, ma'am?"

Gwen smiles, nodding. "I understand that completely, Fleta. And thank you. It is lovely and I'm sure it will keep us warm this winter. Now go change!" she shoos her back into the bedroom, laughing.

Just then Gwaine comes through the doors, a large metal object in his dirty hands.

"Oh. Sorry," he apologizes to the three sets of surprised eyes. "Excuse me, ma'am, but Aldwin is sending me to town to take this," he holds up the item, "to the blacksmith. I thought I'd stop and see if you needed anything while I was there."

Gwen has to bite her cheeks to keep from laughing at his performance. She sets the blanket on the table to school her features back. "Actually, would you be so good as to check in with Bartley to see if he has those rabbits you and Aldwin caught cleaned yet? I have a mind to make stew."

"Of course, ma'am," he nods.

"What is that?" she asks, pointing to the thing he is holding. It is in two pieces.

"Yoke. Broke."

"Ah, poetry," she smiles, then frowns. "It broke already?" She moves closer. "Let me see."

He holds out the item and she takes it from him easily, not concerned over its weight at all.

"Hmm," she frowns. "I knew I should have gone with him," she grumbles darkly.

"What's wrong, Goldie?" Sherman asks, curious now.

"Yes, I'm curious myself," Gwaine adds.

"This is not a new yoke. It had been broken once before, and was repaired – badly – before the blacksmith sold it to my husband," she says, peering at the break.

"How can you tell?" Sherman asks.

"My father was a blacksmith, Sherman. And my brother currently is one. Like Fleta said: What kind of a daughter would I be?" she smiles.

"Indeed," Sherman nods.

She hands the broken yoke back to Gwaine, her face suddenly serious.

 _I know that look,_ Gwaine thinks, and waits for the instructions.

"Gwaine, tell the blacksmith that this is unacceptable and that we expect the yoke to be completely recast or replaced with a _new_ one. If he just welds it together, it will only break again. I fear he is trying to swindle us, and that only makes me wonder who else he's been less than honest with. Tell him that if he cannot manage to do his job properly, _I_ will come down there and show him how."

"Well, that should properly mortify him," Gwaine says, smiling. "No disrespect intended, ma'am," he adds carefully.

Gwen smirks. "Did Aldwin give you any money?"

"No."

"Of course not." She reaches for the purse hanging at her hip and withdraws some coins. "That should be enough to cover the blacksmith and the butcher. Though I don't honestly think we owe the blacksmith any additional fee."

"I'll see what I can do there," Gwaine says. "I can be very persuasive, you know."

"Hmm," Gwen says, noncommittally. She and Gwaine regard one another for a moment, sharing a private joke between them.

"Have you not left yet?" Arthur comes bursting in.

"Just leaving, boss," Gwaine says, ducking out the door.

"Aldwin, you remember Myla and Fleta," Gwen motions to Sherman's wife and daughter, who is has just emerged, back in her own dress.

"Of course, the dress. How was it?"

"Perfect," Fleta says, handing it to Gwen, who folds it carefully and wraps it in paper to keep it clean, tying it with a length of twine.

"Of course it was," Arthur states proudly.

"You have a talented wife, Aldwin," Sherman says, clapping Arthur on the shoulder. "Full of surprises, this one."

"Oh?" Arthur asks.

"Oh, they just learned that I know one or two things about blacksmithing, that's all," Gwen says, waving her hand dismissively.

"Ah, that," Arthur smiles. "Yes, she's a woman of many talents, indeed."

"So… can you actually _forge_ things?" Fleta asks, fascinated.

"Small things, yes. I've made some cutlery, actually, and my father helped me make some candlesticks once," she says. _Candlesticks and cutlery that are back in Camelot, in my old house. I hope Elyan is taking care of it._

"Wow," Fleta says, impressed.

"Just the environment in which I grew up," Gwen shrugs. "I just picked things up from being around the forge so much."

"And no one can start a fire like my Goldevia," Arthur says, grinning at her.

Gwen smiles back, remembering that day; one of their many almost-kisses. _Merlin, you have such bad timing sometimes._ "Oh, Aldwin, Fleta made this for us." Gwen hands Arthur the blanket.

"This is beautifully crafted, Fleta," Arthur says, inspecting the edges, rubbing the wool between his fingers. "Sherman, how do you get your sheep to grow their wool this color?" he jokes. "Your pastures must be very festive, indeed."

Sherman laughs. "Special diet, don't you know. Lots of beets."

"Speaking of the sheep, we must be going," Myla says, gathering her daughter's dress and placing it carefully in the satchel. "You left Jeremy in charge, remember? The dogs don't really listen to him."

"Thank you, Goldie," Fleta hugs Gwen tightly.

"I look forward to seeing you wearing it at your wedding," Gwen says, smiling at the girl.

xXx

"…That's what I heard. Lady Morgana of Camelot."

"Shh!" Merlin shushes Gwaine, who wasn't talking, his hand grabbing the other man's arm.

"Merlin, I wasn't saying anything," Gwaine protests.

"Shut up. I just heard something about Morgana," Merlin whispers urgently. Another week has passed, and Merlin and Gwaine have gone to the tavern. Arthur opted, not surprisingly, to stay home with his wife.

Gwaine looks around, listening but still appearing nonchalant.

"Yeah, she's gone missing now, too. First the prince takes off with two servants, and now Morgana has disappeared."

"The king must be a wreck."

"Doubt it. From what I hear, King Uther is a heartless bastard."

"Too right there," Gwaine mutters, and Merlin snickers in agreement.

"True. Word is he's been on a tyrannical rampage since his son ran away. They say he eloped with some serving girl. Lady Morgana's serving girl, to be exact."

"Why'd he bring his servant, too, then?"

"He's a prince. He's gotta have someone to order around."

Another snicker from Merlin.

"Uther's just going to get worse now."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't hear the juiciest bit? It came out that Lady Morgana is actually Uther's daughter."

Merlin almost spits his drink all over Gwaine.

"There was some other Lady. Name escapes me. She somehow found out and word has spread like wildfire."

"Morgause," Merlin mutters. "Has to be."

"They say she's a witch."

"Who? Morgana or the other?"

"Both, actually. Probably why she took off. Uther won't take kindly to _that_ news, daughter or no."

"Let's go," Merlin says. Gwaine nods, knocks back the rest of his drink, and they both stand.

They walk home, silently mulling over the information they just overheard.

"Emrys." A vaguely familiar voice reaches their ears. Merlin stops in his tracks.

"Who is Emrys?" Gwaine asks.

"Me," Merlin answers. He closes his eyes a moment, then turns to see Odras standing just off the path.

"Odras," he nods to the Druid.

"It's time, Emrys," Odras says.

"I thought as much. What are Morgana and Morgause up to? What do they want?"

"Power. They desire power. Morgause has been waiting for Uther to weaken, for Arthur to be out of the picture. She has been preparing. Allied herself with Cenred. She has poisoned Morgana against her family and friends."

"Morgause wishes for the throne?" Gwaine asks.

"No, Sir Gwaine, not Morgause. Morgana. She feels it is her place to be Queen of Camelot," Odras nods.

"Sir?" Gwaine asks, taken aback.

"Don't argue," Merlin says quietly. "I need to tell Arthur."

"Yes, Emrys. You do. And you will need help."

"Will the Druids not help us?" Merlin asks.

"It is not written. But know this. Morgause has the Cup of Life, and she intends to use it."

"That's not good," Merlin says.

"Indeed not, Emrys. You know what you must do?" He gazes intently at Merlin.

"I think so."

"You must know so. And you will." Odras regards him silently for a moment, his brown eyes locked onto Merlin's blue ones. Then he turns and disappears into the woods.

"Do they always talk like that?" Gwaine asks.

"Yeah," Merlin says, walking towards their home. Gwaine doesn't ask any more questions, leaving Merlin to his thoughts.

xXx

"You always smell so good, Guinevere," Arthur mutters, nuzzling his wife's neck as she sits in his lap, his arms around her waist.

"You smell good now that you've had a bath," she teases, then yelps and giggles when he gently nips her skin.

"Well, you know," he pauses to place a few soft kisses on the place he has just bitten, "I am a hard-working farmer, toiling away in the fields all day."

"Oh, that's right. Silly me, I thought you were a prince," she runs her fingers into his hair as he continues to busy himself in her neck, up to her ear and back down to the soft cay where he shoulder begins.

"Not anymore," he mumbles, his hands sliding on her side, fingers spreading and contracting against the material of her dress.

"You still are to me, my love," she whispers, bringing her hand to his cheek now. "Arthur," she starts again, "I…"

"Merlin," Arthur complains, lifting his head at the sound of the door opening. Gwen begins to stand, but he holds fast, keeping her in his lap.

"Sorry, Arthur, sorry, Gwen. But it's important," Merlin says. Gwaine closes the door behind them and Merlin flicks his hand in almost an irritated fashion, soundproofing the house again.

"So I see," Arthur says, "what happened?"

Merlin and Gwaine detail what they heard at the tavern, about Morgana going missing, Uther on the rampage, and the truth about Morgana's birth.

Arthur visibly pales at this last bit of news. "Surely that's just tavern gossip," he says, but there is no conviction behind his voice. Gwen notices he is holding her rather tightly.

"Arthur," Merlin says gravely, "we talked to Odras."

"Oh," Arthur answers dumbly.

"What did he say, Merlin?" Gwen asks, her hand rubbing Arthur's arm soothingly.

"He confirmed everything we heard. And more."

"More? I don't know if I can take any more," Arthur says quietly.

"Morgause is intending to use the Cup of Life."

"How did she get her hands on that?"

"Odras didn't say. She's orchestrating everything. She's got Cenred's army behind her."

"She wants to place Morgana on the throne and then make her a puppet," Arthur muses.

"No, Arthur. Morgana is a willing participant. Yes, Morgause has… encouraged her, has driven a wedge between her and the rest of you. But Morgana is not the same person you knew, Arthur. Remember that. She desires power. She thinks it is her due, she wishes to punish Uther for his condemnation of people who practice magic."

"Odras told you all this?" Arthur asks.

"I didn't hear him say any of that," Gwaine says.

Merlin looks at him. "Odras told me more than what you heard, Gwaine."

"Okay, that's just creepy, Merlin," Gwaine says, shaking his head.

"Merlin," Gwen asks, "how do you feel? Do you agree with Morgana, that Uther should be punished? You have magic, too."

Merlin is quiet for a moment. "Uther's actions are unforgivable. His actions were driven by fear. Still are. But punishing him in this way… that is not the way to restore magic to Camelot. All she is doing is proving his point. Further reinforcing his belief that those who have magic are evil." His voice is soft, contemplative. "I cannot condone that."

"Thank you, Merlin, that is what I needed to hear," Gwen smiles.

"Kilgarrah once told me that I am the light to her darkness," he whispers.

"That's a beautiful thing to say," Gwen says.

"Gwaine," Arthur says suddenly, standing and easing Gwen from his lap. He still holds her hand tightly in his, as if he is afraid to break contact with her. "You and I will ride for Camelot at first light. I need to see what's happening. Merlin, stay here with Guinevere and look after her."

"Arthur…" Gwen and Merlin both protest.

"No! Guinevere, I want you to stay here. I don't want Morgana anywhere near you," his voice breaks slightly as he speaks, and Gwen can only nod in the face of his intense gaze.

"Send word when you have news," Merlin says to Arthur. "I will need to be there to help you if they're using magic, you know."

"I know. And I will," he says, frowning, "somehow."

"Let me worry about that," Merlin says.

xXx

"I love you. Take care of yourself," Gwen whispers in Arthur's ear early the next morning.

"I love you more," Arthur mutters, squeezing her tightly. "I'll look for Elyan."

"Thank you," she says, blinking back tears. _Don't cry. It'll just make it worse._

"I'll make sure he stays out of trouble," Gwaine says.

"Who's going to keep you out of trouble?" she jokes weakly.

"Trouble and I are old friends, Esmeralda," he winks at her now, and she hugs him, too.

"Arthur," Merlin presses a small oval object into his friend's palm. "Use this to send word back."

Arthur holds up the item. "An egg?" He stops himself from making a snide remark, knowing that this is likely not an ordinary egg.

"Tap it three times when you need to use it. It will not break until you do," Merlin assures him.

Arthur eyes him suspiciously, but pockets the small taupe egg. He bends and gives Gwen one more kiss, and with a whispered, "I love you," he turns, mounts his horse, and the two knights ride quickly away.

"Gwen, he'll be fine. He's not going to do anything. Just look around and decide on strategy. He won't do anything stupid."

"Merlin, are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Gwen asks, taking his hand.

She looks up at him and he smiles guiltily.

He squeezes her hand once and then releases it, pulling another egg from his pocket.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Getting help," he says, tapping the egg three times on the fencepost.

xXx

Arthur and Gwaine are in the forest outside Camelot just as dusk is falling. They've set up camp and tethered their horses in a nearby copse, thick with undergrowth, near a stream and a small cave.

"Can you see anything?" Gwaine asks, watching Arthur's back.

"It's quiet right now. I don't know if… wait. I hear something. This way." He leads Gwaine along the edge of the forest, towards the gates to the lower town.

Arthur mutters a soft curse as he sees men approaching. A lot of men. Gwaine echoes the sentiment and grabs Arthur's shoulder.

"Don't even think about it, Princess," he warns. "Even _I'm_ not that crazy." He can feel Arthur's body trembling with fury. "We can't do this alone, Arthur. We need time and men."

"I know. But that means letting Morgana and Morgause in. I don't have the kind of time I need to stage a proper defense."

"So we switch to offense," Gwaine shrugs. "I'm afraid we might have no choice but to let them in."

"But my father…"

"Arthur. You have a brain. Use it. If they get in, we just kick them out again. Simple."

"I need to get to my men. I need to find Sir Leon."

"Sir Leon is going to be quite busy very soon, Arthur."

"Come on," Arthur grabs Gwaine by the collar and pulls him, heading for the lower town.

xXx

"Gwen, you shouldn't be carrying that," Merlin says, taking the bucket of water from her.

"Merlin, I've been lugging buckets of water since I was a girl," Gwen protests.

"Not the point," he says, looking at her, his face inscrutable.

 _Do you know, Merlin?_ she wonders, but says nothing. They walk the rest of the way back to the house in silence. They haven't spoken much since Arthur and Gwaine left, but it is a companionable silence, the silence of two people who know each other well enough to know when words are unnecessary.

The day has passed with no word from Arthur. Gwen didn't expect to hear from him immediately, but a small part of her was hoping.

Merlin heads back outside, leaving Gwen to finish making their dinner. A few moments later, she hears voices outside.

 _Who is Merlin talking to?_ she wonders, wiping her hands and stepping to the door. Her hand is just on the knob when she recognizes the voice.

 _Oh. Him._ She takes a deep breath and opens the door, stepping outside.

"Hello, Lancelot," she says evenly.

"Guinevere!" he smiles, his face lighting up momentarily, then, remembering himself, it drops, neutral once again.

"So it was you who Merlin called, then," she says, walking forward, glancing up at the mountain of a man with Lancelot.

"He said that he needed my aid. Arthur needed good men. That Camelot is in peril."

"And you came to help Arthur," she says quietly, humbled and impressed at his inner nobility.

"I came because Merlin asked me to," he clarifies. "This is Percival," he indicates his companion.

"My lady," Percival nods respectfully.

"Percival, I am not a Lady," she smiles, noting his soft-spoken nature and gentle face.

"You are married to the Prince of Camelot, are you not?" he asks, pointing casually at the ring she is absentmindedly twisting around her finger.

She glances at Lancelot, who suddenly looks uncomfortable. _Did he not notice it? Did he think I was just living here, scandalously, with two men?_

"I am married to a man who once called himself the Prince of Camelot, yes," she answers carefully.

"Then, to me, you are a Lady and are deserving of my respect. My lady," he answers, nodding. Then he smiles, and his face transforms into that of a small boy.

"You are kind, Percival. Why have you chosen to help?"

"Cenred's men attacked my village and slaughtered my family. I have no love for Cenred or anyone associated with him," he says, his face darkening.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Percival," she says, laying her hand on his arm briefly. _It's like a log._

"Come inside," Merlin says. "I'll fill you in."

xXx

Arthur and Gwaine make their way through the lower town, staying in the shadows. More and more men are pouring in, and at the moment they are just trying to avoid them.

Much to Arthur's chagrin. Gwaine can practically hear Arthur's sword hand twitching.

"Do you know where he lives?" Gwaine whispers.

"I have a suspicion," Arthur answers, looking furtively around before stepping up to a familiar house, one of his favorite places in Camelot, and knocking softly on the door.

"Elyan!" he whispers.

A moment later the door opens a bit, and Elyan's expectant face appears. "My lord!" he gasps, stepping back and opening the door, blinking in surprise as Arthur and Gwaine rush inside quickly.

"Wait, where's Gwen? If you've left her, Arthur, so help me…" his voice turns menacing and trails off as he reaches for a nearby sword.

"No, no, Elyan, I haven't left her, honest!" Arthur hurriedly explains. "I would never… She is safe in our new home, with Merlin. I promise."

"What's going on?" Elyan asks. "And who is this?"

"This is Gwaine. Gwaine, this is Guinevere's brother, Elyan."

The two men nod at each other. "We came back because of Morgana," Arthur says.

"You're going to try and find her?" he asks.

"No, actually, I'm not. I have a feeling she'll turn up sooner than we all expect," he says darkly. "We're here because Camelot is in danger. Morgause—"

Arthur's words are cut off by the alarm bells sounding. The three men look up. "Elyan, we need to get out of here. I promised Guinevere I'd look after you; come with us," he says hurriedly.

"We need to go to the forge first," Elyan says, picking up his sword and a few other items. A flask of water. Some food. Blankets. He stuffs all these things into a leather bag and slings it over his shoulder.

"Why the forge?" Gwaine asks.

"There are weapons there," he says, going to the door.

Arthur extinguishes the candles and follows them out. "Quietly. We don't want to be seen," he whispers.

The trio creeps through the shadows to the forge, slipping thankfully unnoticed inside.

"Elyan, what on earth?" Arthur says, blinking in the darkness.

"I've been making weapons for the knights. Uther has been unbearable since you left, and he fired the royal blacksmith. I've been filling in, hoping that I'll eventually be given the post. Load up."

"I'm assuming he doesn't know who your sister is," Gwaine mutters dryly.

"I may have neglected to mention that detail. And my father's name seemed to have been left unsaid as well," Elyan smirks.

"Don't blame you," Arthur says. "These are really good, Elyan," he adds, holding up a sword, checking the straightness of the blade.

They load up with all that they can carry, and slip outside again. They turn a corner and come face to face with two of Cenred's men.

The men round on them, drawing their swords. Gwaine grins and meets the first one, shoving him into the other.

They stumble briefly, and when they recover, Arthur is ready, sword drawn.

He attacks, quick as lightning, and while it is apparent that Arthur is the more skilled fighter, the man doesn't fall.

"What the hell?" Arthur grunts, then thrusts his sword into the man's chest. Nothing. He shoves the man again, this time with Elyan's help, and the two soldiers fall, tripping over some cobbles and Gwaine's strategically-placed foot.

"Run!" Arthur says, and the three men take off for the forest and the safety of their camp.


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm sorry," Gwen flushes, "I wasn't expecting guests for dinner, um…"

"It's alright, Gwen, Percival and I already ate," Lancelot says quickly. "You and Merlin go on ahead."

Merlin looks at Lancelot. So does Percival. Merlin sees the brief surprise flitting across Percival's face and he knows that the two men haven't eaten.

Gwen's back is to them, fixing their plates, so she doesn't see the exchange, something for which all three men are thankful.

"We'll just sit while you eat," Lancelot says. "We've been traveling all day."

"Please," Gwen offers, motioning to some chairs. "Merlin," she holds his plate out and he takes it, trying not to feel guilty about eating in front of Lancelot and his friend.

Dinner passes a little awkwardly, Merlin talking with his mouth full most of the time, bringing them up to speed. Lancelot and Percival listen intently, taking everything in. Gwen is surprised to learn the Lancelot already knows Merlin's secret. Percival doesn't seem concerned in the least with the news that this pale, seemingly-harmless man is a powerful warlock. He even asks for a demonstration.

"Do something," he challenges, smiling.

"You saw me soundproof the house before," Merlin mutters.

He always gets embarrassed when people ask him to do magic on command. Gwaine had taken full advantage one afternoon, having him do all manner of nonsense and refusing to take no for an answer.

Percival shrugs. "Could you, oh, stop _me_ if you had to? Not that I'd attack you or anything, but— argh!" His words are cut off with a slightly strangled noise as the large man finds himself immobilized, fixed in Merlin's golden stare. The only things Percival can move are his eyes, which dart from Merlin to Gwen and then back to Merlin. Merlin's eyes fade and Percival slumps slightly.

"Guess so," Percival chuckles.

"That was nothing," Lancelot says. "I've seen what he can do. His looks are very deceiving."

"We're lucky you're on our side, Merlin," Gwen says, picking at her food.

"Gwen, you should finish," Merlin says quietly.

She looks at him, furrowing her brow. _When did he get to be so protective?_ "I'm too worried about Arthur."

"I know, Gwen. I'm worried, too."

"There's some left, if either of you still have room. Percival, you look as though you have a healthy appetite," Gwen offers.

"No, thank you," Lancelot answers.

"Yes, thank you," Percival says, standing. "Could do with a snack," he adds carefully, then proceeds to finish Gwen's plate and the rest of the uneaten vegetables and meat.

Guinevere starts to clear up around Percival, chatting with Merlin while he helps. She turns around and sees the door swinging closed behind Lancelot.

She sighs and frowns.

"I'll go talk to him," Merlin offers, squeezing Gwen's hand.

"No, Merlin. I should go," she says, grabbing her wrap and heading outside.

Percival turns around and looks at Merlin. "What am I missing, here?"

Merlin sighs and sits down across from him. "Well…"

xXx

"They wouldn't die," Elyan gasps once they are back at their camp. "I saw you run that man through and he kept fighting like nothing happened! What sorcery is this?"

"The Cup of Life," Arthur says.

"That's real?" Elyan asks, then bends to start a fire for them.

"Yes. We don't know how Morgause got her hands on it, but it's real. Merlin said that if used in a certain way, a sorcerer can create his own personal army of immortals. Or in this case, _her_ own personal army."

"Merlin? What does he know about it? Isn't he your servant?" Elyan asks, throwing some more wood on the fire.

"Well, it turns out he's a great deal more than just a servant," Arthur says, then looks up sharply as he hears a twig snap a short distance away. He holds his hands out, bidding them silence, and slowly reaches for his sword.

He stands. Gwaine and Elyan follow, flanking him on either side and slightly behind.

Arthur creeps forward, all his senses on alert, thankfully not dulled by his two relatively idle months. _Thank the gods for Gwaine and our sparring sessions in the forest,_ he finds himself thinking.

One more step forward, sword raised. Suddenly a figure springs from behind a tree, and metal clashes against metal just once before Arthur finds himself looking up into a familiar set of eyes.

"Leon!" he exclaims, but quietly. "What… why…?" Both men lower their swords and clasp forearms. "Bors!" he sees Sir Bors behind Sir Leon now and greets him similarly.

"Why are you not wearing Camelot's colors?"

"We left Camelot, my lord. I'm sorry," Leon says, his voice tinged with remorse.

"You left? Come, sit," Arthur bids them, and introduces Leon and Bors to Gwaine.

"And you probably know Elyan," Arthur nods.

"Yes the blacksmith," Bors nods.

"How are you, Elyan?" Leon asks, and Arthur is surprised at the knight's level of familiarity with Elyan.

"My mother was Sir Leon's family's maid," Elyan explains, seeing the puzzled look crossing Arthur's face. "And I've been meaning to thank you for not mentioning who my sister is to King Uther," Elyan tells Leon.

"Not a relevant piece of information," Leon grins, having always been fond of Gwen.

"So," Arthur says, steering the conversation back. "Why were you not in Camelot and why have you come back now?"

"Well, Sire, to be perfectly honest, I couldn't stand dealing with your father in your absence," he says, somewhat sheepishly. "Search parties were sent to look for you, and Bors and I took a detail. I had resolved to stay with you if I found you, and if I did not find you, I would find another kingdom and appeal to their king for knighthood. Bors agreed to join me."

"That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea, my lord," Bors answers, pulling a skin of water from his belt.

"So you wouldn't have told my father where I was had you found me," Arthur muses, surprised and touched at his knight's loyalty to him, but a little disappointed in Leon's lack of loyalty to his father.

"I was made captain upon your, um, departure, Sire. Your father is a very difficult man to answer to."

"He is, yes."

"And the only person that he would even consider allow challenging him is you."

"Hmm."

"But Bors and I heard the rumors about Morgana and Morgause, so we decided to make our way back to see if we could help. That's why we're back."

"Well, I'm glad to see both of you," Arthur smiles. "I was just about to explain to Elyan why the invading soldiers cannot be killed, so you arrived just in time."

"One question first," Leon says, smirking just slightly.

"Of course."

"Did you marry Gwen?"

"Yes, I did, and it was the best decision I've ever made. She and Merlin are safe and nowhere near here."

"Why did you take Merlin along, too? I'm curious."

"You said one question, Leon," Arthur laughs. "But I think your second question will be answered soon."

xXx

"Are you happy? With him?" Lancelot is sitting outside the house, facing away, looking out towards the water. He could just hear Guinevere's soft footfalls as she hesitantly approached.

"Yes, I am," she answers softly, and he turns. She looks beautiful bathed in the moonlight, standing there, the breeze blowing her hair, clutching a shawl around her shoulders. Her face is serene, but he can see the worry edging her eyes.

 _Worry for Arthur, or at seeing me again?_ he wonders. He looks away again.

"You have no one to blame but yourself, Lancelot. You do realize this, don't you?" she asks, her voice still soft.

He says nothing, so she continues. "It was you that left. Both times."

"The first time was because I was banished from Camelot, Gwen."

"I know that. But… did it never occur to you to ask me to leave with you?"

"Would you have?" he looks at her again.

"I honestly don't know. My point is that you did not even give me the option."

"I am sorry for that, then," he says. "I did it the second time, too, didn't I? Left without giving you a choice."

She nods. "Why did you do that?"

"I could see that Arthur had feelings for you, and Merlin confirmed it. I wasn't going to come between you."

"You weren't even going to try?"

"How can I compete with a prince?"

He watches as Gwen's face becomes very tight. She hitches the shawl tighter around her shoulders with one hand, her other straying absently across her stomach. "You think me so shallow? You think that my feelings for Arthur are prompted by the fact that he is a _prince?_ "

Lancelot says nothing.

"The fact that I am here, with him, living the life of a farmer's wife should give you your answer, Lancelot," she says tersely.

"I know you are not that way. I know your priorities don't lie with titles or worldly possessions, Gwen," he says quietly, chastised.

"I shed tears for you when you left that second time, Lancelot. Tears that he saw."

"Oh?"

"He took it about as well as you would expect," she shrugs, and Lancelot actually chuckles. She sits beside him.

"I'm sorry, Guinevere, for never considering your opinion. Would it have changed anything if I had stayed?" he looks at her.

"I can't answer that question, Lancelot," she answers. "It's all conjecture at this point. What-ifs." She pauses with a sigh. "This might be hard for you to hear, but I want to be honest with you. I will always have fond memories of you. But… any feelings I had for you, any of _those_ feelings, are gone. You came to my rescue and you swept me off my feet. But it was an infatuation, an idea of what love could possibly be."

"You never loved me," he whispers.

"No. I'm sorry. I never got the chance to know you well enough to love you, Lancelot. I… I know that you are one of the kindest, most honest people I know, nobler than most. I know you are a skilled warrior. I know that you, for whatever reason, found me attractive and treated me like a Lady even though I was a servant. But that's all I know. I don't know anything about who you are or what makes you the way you are. Do you have any family? What was your childhood like? Are there any leisure activities you enjoy? Do you like children? Is there anything that frightens you? Do you like… figs? I don't know any of that."

"And you know these things about Arthur."

"Yes, I do. Not because I interrogated him or watched his every move, but because we took the time to find things out about one another. And he knows as much about me. Yes, the attraction was always there, that was undeniable. But attraction without the deeper meaning, the friendship behind it, well…" she pauses, "it doesn't last."

"I never took the time, so we'll never know," he says, nodding sadly. "And now it's too late for me."

"Yes. I'm sorry, Lancelot, but it is. You closed that door when you walked away the second time," she says, hugging her arms around her middle.

"But he is good to you? You're happy with him? Truly?"

"Yes. Very. You only know Arthur the prince, Lancelot. The arrogant, brave, prattish spoiled prince. I assure you, he has changed. He's still very much Prince Arthur, but the spoiled prat has all but disappeared."

"Due to your influence, no doubt," he guesses.

"I don't know about that," she says modestly, "but I do know that he is the missing piece of my heart, the blood that flows through my body, the very air that I breathe. Never for a second do I doubt his feelings for me, his love for me."

"You have no idea how much I miss him right now, how worried I am for him," Gwen adds softly.

"If you are happy, Gwen, than I am happy. I promise."

"Thank you," Gwen says, smiling at him. _He still looks sad._

"Goldie," Merlin's voice calls from the doorway, "come inside. You shouldn't be out here in the cold, and you need your rest."

"Such a mother hen, this one," Gwen sighs, standing. "Merlin, I told you that you don't need to take care of me," she complains, walking past him and into the house. "I've been taking care of both you and Arthur since we got here, for goodness sake."

"I promised Arthur I would keep you safe and well. If you get so much as a sniffle he'll have my head," he tells her.

She sighs exasperatedly. "Lancelot, you and Percival are going to have to sleep in the barn, I'm afraid. Now that Arthur is gone, I can't have strange men sleeping in my house. You know I trust you, but we need to keep up a pretense, I'm sorry."

"I understand," Lancelot nods, followed by Percival, who stands. His head nearly touches the ceiling.

"Let me get you some blankets."

xXx

Leon is floored. _Merlin. A wizard. And from what Arthur says, a pretty powerful one._ "Does Gaius know?"

"Gaius!" Arthur exclaims, remembering the physician. "I hope he has sense enough to keep his head down. And yes, he's known all along about Merlin."

"Wow. What do we do now? How do we defeat an immortal army?" Bors asks.

"That's what I need to find out," Arthur says, standing and withdrawing the egg from his pocket.

"Where's he going?" Elyan asks Gwaine.

"He's going to send word to Merlin, I imagine," Gwaine answers with a shrug.

"With an egg?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Arthur moves away from the group, not sure what will happen when he cracks the egg.

He studies it a moment, even squeezing it. _It feels like a stone. Well, here goes…_

Arthur taps the egg three times on the side of a tree. A moment later, it vibrates, and a small bird appears in a shower of blue sparks.

"Oh," Arthur says, surprised. _What were you expecting? It's an egg. Birds come out of eggs._

He doesn't see the harm in returning to the fire with it, so he saunters back to the warmth of the fire, the small bird perched on his finger.

"You have a bird," Gwaine says.

"So it seems. I tapped the egg like Merlin said and this bird appeared." He looks at the bird in the firelight. It is small, sparrow-sized, but with shiny black feathers and large blue eyes like sapphires.

"Merlin bird," Arthur chuckles, realization hitting him.

The bird looks back at him, cocking its little head just so, almost as if it is saying, "Well?"

"What do you do now?" Elyan asks.

"Not sure. I don't know if I'm supposed to attach a note to its leg, or…" he stops as the bird flits up to his shoulder and chirps softly in his ear.

Arthur laughs as the bird perches on his finger again.

"Did… did it just say something to you?" Leon asks.

"It said, 'Talk to the bird, Cabbage Head,'" Arthur says, shaking his head.

"All I heard was chirping," Gwaine says. He is sitting beside Arthur, on the side that the bird leapt to.

"It was… it was like Merlin's voice was inside my head," Arthur explains. "Rather unpleasant, actually, now that I think about it."

The men laugh, and then Arthur holds his hand up again.

"All right." He lifts the bird and looks at him. "Merlin…"

xXx

Gwen, Merlin, Lancelot and Percival are walking to the barn when a small ball of light whizzes towards them.

"Whoa!" Lancelot leaps in front of Gwen and Percival reaches for his sword.

Merlin holds his hand out, easily catching the ball in his palm. "Message from Arthur," he says calmly.

"Oh!" Gwen gasps. "Inside the barn," she ushers the group quickly inside as they are closer to the barn than the house.

Once inside, Merlin opens his palm to reveal a small golden bird with stormcloud blue eyes.

Arthur bird.

Gwen smiles.

"When it was with Arthur, it had black feathers," Merlin explains.

"That's quite charming, Merlin. And clever," Gwen says, peering at the little bird on Merlin's palm.

"Okay," Merlin tells the bird and it flits up to his shoulder now and begins chirping quietly.

"Cenred's army has attacked," Merlin translates, his eyes unfocused, gazing at some unseen point in the distance, "Lower town overrun… no information on the citadel or the castle yet… Morgause made the army immortal with the Cup… Leon and Bors with us… Elyan safe and well, also with us…"

Gwen breathes a sigh of relief.

"Who is Elyan?" Lancelot asks.

"My little brother," Gwen explains quickly, her eyes not leaving Merlin.

"Need to find Uther and Gaius… get them to safety… find out how to stop an unstoppable army…" Merlin laughs now. "That part was instructions for me," he explains, then refocuses.

"Camped in the forest just west of the lower town… Need more men… Come as soon as you can…" Merlin blushes now, and stops, blinking. He looks at the bird and it zips across, landing on Gwen's shoulder now.

Gwen jumps slightly, but stays still so the little Arthur bird can land.

_I miss you and I love you very much. I cannot wait until we are back together so I can hold you in my arms, hopefully within the walls of the castle. Be safe. I love you._

Gwen smiles and looks down at her hands, color rising in her cheeks at just hearing Arthur's soft baritone voice inside her head. Lancelot looks away glumly, still struggling with his fate.

Merlin clears his throat politely. "Done?" he asks. Gwen nods and Merlin holds his hand out. The bird flies back to him, and Merlin fixes it in his gaze and speaks.

"We will leave first thing in the morning. I have Lancelot and another, Percival, with me. You won't be disappointed, Arthur, he's immense."

Percival chuckles bashfully at this, looking at his fingernails.

"I will see what I can find out about the Cup. There must be a way to undo it. Please check on Gaius if you can manage it."

Merlin finishes and lifts his hand. The bird turns back into the tiny ball of light and zips from the barn, out through a high window.

"We should leave tonight," Gwen says.

"Excuse me, 'we?' _You_ are not going anywhere," Merlin says, looking at Gwen.

"Oh, really?" Gwen challenges. "What makes you think that you can tell me what to do?"

Lancelot and Percival look at each other helplessly, trying to become invisible.

 _Merlin is right,_ Lancelot thinks. _Gwen should stay here._ He thinks these things, but he says nothing, knowing better.

"Gwen, I'm to look after your safety! How am I supposed to do that if I'm marching you _towards_ the danger?"

"You're the bloody wizard, Merlin, I think you can manage," she snaps, turning towards the doors.

"Get the horses ready. We leave as soon as possible," she orders, sweeping from the barn.

Merlin hurries after her, still trying to argue.

Percival nods, impressed with the tiny woman. "That is a queen for sure," he says, heading for his horse.

"She shouldn't come with," Lancelot mutters.

"It seems to me that you gave up any right to have any say about what she does, Lancelot. No disrespect intended, but you need to either deal with your feelings or put them aside if you're going to be any help here," Percival says, turning back to his friend, tired of his sullen mood.

"Merlin told you," Lancelot says quietly.

"He did. You can't dwell on what might have been, my friend. I live with that knowledge every day of my life. You know what I lost. More than just my family, I lost my future as well."

"I know, Percival. I'm sorry. I've been behaving like an insufferable girl."

"Life rolls on, and we must roll with it. Now shut up, stop moping, and pack your horse."

A short time later, they hear Merlin and Gwen coming back to the barn. They are still arguing, but the two men can't make out the words yet.

"Gwen," Merlin reaches for her arm. "It's not safe for you to go. _You know why._ "

She stops and stares hard at him. "Yes, I do. But what I want to know is how the hell do _you_ know?"

"Nothing is more magical, Guinevere," Merlin says softly.

Gwen closes her eyes. "I cannot stay here while you are all over there. It would kill me. Not knowing. Not knowing when you will come back, _if_ you will come back. What happens then, if you all perish? I stay here, alone, for the rest of my life, just me and… my reminder." A tear slips out now, and Merlin reaches down and wipes it away with his thumb.

"I'm not going to go into battle, Merlin," she says, gathering her resolve again, looking up at him. "I will stay at the camp. I won't even go into the lower town, won't go near the castle. I promise. But I cannot stay here alone."

Merlin sighs heavily. "Fine. But Arthur's going to be mad, and he's going to take it out on me. Remember that."

"Sorry," she hugs him and starts walking to the barn, slinging her bag back on her shoulder.

Merlin blinks after her a second. "Hey! Are those my trousers?"

"Not anymore," she calls back. "Are you coming or are you going to just stand there and gape?"

 _She's been around Arthur too much,_ Merlin decides.

He runs to catch up. "Why did you steal my trousers? Did you have to cut the legs off?"

"Because the ones I made when I got here are too small already," she says, sounding slightly irritated by this fact. "And yes, I did. They were hanging way off my feet."

Merlin laughs and heads back into the barn. Three horses, since Gwaine took Merlin's. "Gwen, you'll have to ride with someone," he says.

"I'll ride with you, Merlin," she says. _Percival's horse is burdened enough with just him, and riding with Lancelot would be cruel to both Lancelot and Arthur._

"All right," Merlin says, understanding her reasons.

"My lady, can I assist you?" Percival asks, offering his hand. He helps her up into the saddle and then Merlin swings up behind her.

"Thank you, Percival," Gwen says.

"We'll stop halfway and make camp, and we should be in Camelot fairly early in the morning," Merlin says, and the group moves out.


	7. Chapter 7

The four riders stop approximately halfway to Camelot and make camp in a secluded spot not far from the road.

Gwen quickly builds a fire and once Percival returns with an armload of logs, they have warmth aplenty.

"You did that very fast, my lady," Percival observes.

"My father was a blacksmith, Percival. I'm very good at getting fires going," she smiles.

"One of her many talents," Merlin adds, trying to get back on her good side. "Um, I need to go for a bit. Have to talk to someone. If one of you takes first watch, I'll relieve you when I return."

"If you do that, Merlin, you won't get any sleep at all," Lancelot points out.

"Lancelot, if you want first watch, I'll take second," Percival says, nodding his agreement. "That way we all get some sleep. Hopefully."

"If you're sure…" Merlin says.

"Yes, Merlin," Lancelot says. "And give the dragon our regards."

"How…?" Merlin asks.

"Merlin, who else would you need to go talk to in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere?" Gwen asks.

"Good point. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Merlin?" Gwen asks. "Can I come? I should like to meet the dragon."

He looks at her, thinking. _Gwen and Kilgarrah. I wouldn't get a word in edgewise._ "I think another time, Gwen. Sometime when it's less… urgent. And sleep is more important for you right now," he says, looking at her pointedly.

"Very well. But promise me I'll get to meet him."

"I promise. Somehow I think he would love to meet you. Now get some sleep."

Gwen lies down and pulls the red wool blanket over her, curling on her side by the fire.

Opposite the fire, Percival reclines on his back, his head on his bag, uncovered, his thickly-muscled arms bare, his long legs extended and crossed at the ankles.

"Aren't you cold, Percival?" Gwen asks, peering at him through the flames.

"I rarely get cold," he answers, not opening his eyes.

"Must be nice," she mutters sleepily.

A short distance away, Lancelot leans against a tree, looking into the darkness of the forest. Once or twice he allows his gaze to rest on Gwen's beautiful sleeping form.

 _Percival is right. I need to let her go or I will be useless. Not just in this quest, but for the rest of my life. She's not mine. She never was. She never will be. She belongs to Arthur and he belongs to her. And if I'm reading Merlin's behavior correctly, she is carrying Arthur's child. I'd say that's pretty definite. What's that?_ He hears a rustling noise, then relaxes when he sees an owl soar upward, a small rodent clutched in its talons. _Owl. Arthur's going to be furious when he finds out she came in her condition._

xXx

Merlin stands in a small clearing, a place just large enough to accommodate Kilgarrah's bulk, and waits.

Moments later the Great Dragon descends noiselessly to the damp grass, lowering his head respectfully.

"Ah, young warlock, I have missed you," Kilgarrah greets him.

"I've missed you, too, actually," Merlin says, smiling. "Life has been too quiet to require your assistance. Plus, I doubt the simple folk of Lyonesse would understand my chatting with a dragon."

Kilgarrah chuckles. "Indeed not. How may I help you this evening, Merlin?"

"The Cup of Life," Merlin says simply.

"Of course. The witch and her sister. Morgause is not to be trifled with, young warlock, be wary."

"I know. That's why I need your help. How do I stop the immortal army she has created?"

"Morgause has taken blood from the men and placed it in the cup. All you must do is spill the cup, and the spell will be broken."

"Sounds… too simple."

"Of course it is. The difficulty will be in finding where she has it hidden. It will no doubt be secreted away and guarded, Merlin."

"Fortunately I know every inch of that castle," Merlin states, somewhat proudly. "She doesn't."

"Use the knowledge you have to your advantage, Merlin."

"Kilgarrah?" Merlin looks up at him, his face hopeful but cautious.

"Yes?"

"Is it truly too late for Morgana? Can she truly not be saved, brought back to us?"

"I'm afraid not," the dragon shakes his massive head sadly. "Her soul has been turned black by her hatred for Uther. Your light is bright, young warlock, but even the sun itself cannot change pitch into silver."

xXx

The sun has just crested the treeline, and Arthur and his men are just finishing a breakfast of dried meat with fruit and bread, courtesy of Elyan's satchel.

"Shh!" Leon is suddenly alert. "Horses. That way," he points to the south.

"Maybe it's Merlin and Lancelot," Gwaine muses.

"Can't be, he said they were leaving at first light," Arthur says.

"Change of plans." They hear Merlin before they see him.

"Merlin!" Arthur jumps up and rushes over, but stopping short when he sees Gwen. "You were supposed to stay at home," he scolds, but Gwen can see his happiness in his eyes, even if he is scowling at her.

"Yeah, you try and stop her," Merlin grumbles.

"Arthur, she doesn't even listen to you, and you're the prince," Elyan reminds him.

"See? Elyan knows! Hello, Elyan," Merlin greets Gwen's brother. Elyan waves back.

Arthur swings Gwen down from the horse, blinking at her, puzzled by something he can't quite put his finger on.

His thoughts are scattered anyway when she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him soundly, right there in front of the men.

Arthur finds he doesn't care, and wraps her in his arms, leaning her back as he deepens the kiss.

"I missed you," she whispers once he finally lifts his head.

"So I see," he grins. "I missed you, too. If I had known you were going to insist on coming along, I wouldn't have put that part in my message to you about not being able to wait to see you."

"Wouldn't have made any difference," she shrugs. He pecks her lips once more and releases her to go hug her brother.

"Elyan, I'm so glad you're safe," Gwen says.

"I wouldn't be if Arthur and Gwaine hadn't found me," he says. "I've missed you."

"You too, little brother." She pauses and then gives him a look. "You took my house, didn't you?" Elyan just grins sheepishly at her.

"My lady," Sir Leon says behind her, and she turns, puzzled.

"Sir Leon, I'm still Gwen," she says, then shyly steps forward and hugs him briefly.

"You are Prince Arthur's wife, my lady," he corrects her, his face still serious. Then slowly, one corner of his mouth curls into a smile and Gwen cannot help but smile back. "I am happy for you both," he admits.

"Thank you, Sir Leon," she says, squeezing his hand.

"Sire," Lancelot nods at Arthur, who clasps his hand warmly if a little awkwardly.

"Thank you for coming, Lancelot. And please, it's just Arthur."

"All right," Lancelot says, still unsure about how to act around Arthur, the man who won the prize that he gave up. "Arthur, this is Percival. He has agreed to aid you in your quest," he motions to Percival.

"Merlin was right, you are immense," Arthur chuckles, clasping the man's forearm, finding it to be as thick as a leg of lamb. "I am grateful, indeed, Percival. I think I could really use a man of your stature."

"Thank you, your highness," Percival says, nodding respectfully.

"Arthur," he corrects.

Introductions are made around, and soon the men are chatting easily. Leon suddenly remembers both Gwaine and Lancelot, actually laughing with Gwaine over how he bested everyone at the tournament, surprising everyone when he removed his helmet.

"Have you eaten?" Arthur asks Gwen, sitting her down beside him.

"Yes, we have, thank you. Elyan, are those my dishes?"

"Mine now, I think you'll find, _my lady,_ " he goads. She rolls her eyes and ignores him.

Gwen looks at Arthur, who is regarding her strangely. "What is it, Arthur?" she asks.

"Something is different about you," he says. "In a good way. But I can't place it."

Merlin looks over at the pair, slightly alarmed. Gwen sees him and gives him a half smile.

She looks back at Arthur. "Can we talk privately somewhere?"

"Of course," he says, standing and holding his hand out for her.

She takes it and the pair walk a distance away into the forest, finding a relatively secluded spot near a fallen tree.

Seven sets of curious eyes watch them leave. One set knows why, and he tunes his attention in their direction, blocking out the sounds of the men's chatter and laugher.

Listening. Not to eavesdrop, but to safeguard. Just in case.

"Arthur, there is something different," Gwen says, taking both of his hands in hers.

He studies her. "Well, you're wearing trousers, maybe that's it. I haven't seen you in trousers for quite some time," he smirks, admiring how he can see more of her shape without skirts blocking the view.

"Um, these particular trousers are a pair of Merlin's that I quickly shortened, actually," she says, biting her lip now.

"Oh?" _Now I'm really confused._

"You see, mine were too tight…"

"Oh, you've put on some weight," he says, almost laughing. "That's all right, I think I like a bit more of you." He reaches for her waist now, pulling her against him. "You were a trifle heavier when I lifted you down from the horse, that must have been it."

"I'm… going to continue to put on some more weight, Arthur," she says quietly. "But only temporarily."

Gwen watches as his smile drops from his face, replaced by shock. Then it slowly melts back into a grin, a ridiculous, goofy grin. Arthur blinks twice and then the anger hits him.

"Damn it Guinevere, you should be at home!" he yells, dropping his hands and stepping back.

A distance away, Merlin hears this, and stands up.

Gwen says nothing. She faces him, her eyes wide and watery. "I didn't want to tell you like this," she finally says quietly. "I started to tell you the other night, but Merlin and Gwaine…"

Arthur is silent, his face stony. He turns away, clenching his jaw, trying not to yell more.

"How could you be so foolish, so… reckless… with our child?" he asks, his voice breaking.

"Arthur, I'm not going to be picking up a sword and rushing into battle with you."

"Damn right, you're not."

"Arthur," she says, reaching out and touching his shoulder hesitantly. He doesn't flinch away, so she continues. "It would be torture for me to stay home. Everyone I care about is here. You, Elyan, Merlin. Even Gwaine has become dear. To sit there, alone, in our house, _wondering…_ It would kill me, Arthur. Wondering if you are safe. Wondering when you will be coming home. Wondering _if_ you will be coming home. If… if the worst happened, and I was left there, alone, alone to raise this baby, _our_ baby, without you…"

"I know. And… and that could still happen, Guinevere," he says, his voice nearly inaudible.

"At least here I know people. There I was an outsider. A stranger with a false name. Please look at me, Arthur."

He turns and faces her, his eyes full of tears. "If anything were to happen to you I would die, Guinevere. My soul would shrivel and turn to dust. That has always been my greatest fear, greater even than my father forcing me into some marriage. And now that you have given me this gift, this amazing, wonderful gift, the fear is worse. More intense, and I didn't think that was even possible. It's dangerous in Camelot right now, Love. If Morgana knew you were here, if she knew you carried my heir…"

"She won't know," Gwen says, tentatively touching his chest. "I won't leave the camp. I promise."

He pulls her to him suddenly, forcefully but not cruelly, and wraps his arms tight around her. "That's right, you won't. And I expect you to listen to me this time."

"I'm not listening to you, Arthur, I'm the one setting the rules," she reminds him, looking up at him now.

"As usual," he allows. She reaches up and wipes the tears from his cheek with her thumb. He reaches and snatches her hand in his, pulling it to his lips to kiss.

"I'm only sorry for the timing," she whispers.

"I know. Babies arrive when they will, though, won't they?" he smiles finally. "How long?"

"It must have happened fairly quickly, if I am already heavier," she muses.

"Guinevere," he croaks her name and pulls her tight against him, wrapping her in his embrace, his hand cupping the back of her head gently, cradling it against his chest.

Gwen noses into the vee at the neck of his shirt and kisses his chest. He groans quietly at the contact and she lifts her head, looking up at him. His eyes are glassy still, but dark with wanting.

"I need you, Guinevere," he whispers huskily, suddenly, then he crashes his lips down on hers, plunging his tongue immediately into her mouth, kissing her like tomorrow is uncertain.

Because it is.

"Arthur," she gasps, pulling her lips away momentarily, finding her feet walking backwards, until her shoulders press the trunk of a large oak.

Arthur presses against her, pinning her gently but firmly between his body and the tree. Gwen can feel his arousal against her stomach, and it draws an unbidden soft moan from her throat.

Arthur slides his hand down over her body, touching, caressing. His hands find the ties at her trousers, and Gwen steps on the toe of her right boot with her left and pulls her foot out.

She reaches for his trousers, their lips still busily entwined as if they are afraid to part for longer than a moment.

"This would be… easier… if you were wearing… a dress…" Arthur complains, then hisses between his teeth, sucking air in sharply when her hand finds him and withdraws his length from his trousers.

Arthur drops down and yanks her trousers down, and Gwen pulls her right foot out of the leg. He stands again, sliding his hand on her thigh, lifting her right leg around his waist.

Gwen wraps one arm around his neck as he hoists her slightly, and Gwen guides his manhood, sheathing himself deep within her.

"Ah," she gasps, bringing her other arm around his neck, holding on while he drives into her, drilling her against the tree.

"Guinevere," he groans, his hands gripping her backside, hitching her higher, bringing her left leg up so she is completely in his arms, her trousers dangling from her still-booted left leg.

Arthur drags his lips down Gwen's chin, kissing his way to her neck as he moves within her.

She clings to his neck, supporting herself enough, so he moves one hand up to gently fondle her breast through the material of her tunic, his thumb grazing her stiff and sensitive nipple.

"Gentle," she gasps, reminding him of her condition.

"Sorry," he mutters against her neck, loosening his grip a bit.

"It's… okay," she answers. "You were… oh… fine, actually…"

He lifts his head, kissing her lips again. "Oh, good," he grunts, kissing her deeply for a few moments before she tears her lips away to nibble at his ear.

"Arthur," she whispers in his ear in between soft nibbles that send chills down his spine.

Gwen's head is spinning, the sensations overwhelming, intense, as she rides him, pinned against the tree. She can feel the rough bark biting into her back through the material of her tunic and Arthur's fingers digging into the flesh at her hip, but they barely register, muted by the heady feelings from his lips, his hand at her breast, and his manhood as it drives within her, again and again.

"Oh…" A drawn-out moan escapes from her lips now, louder than she perhaps should allow given their environment, and Arthur attempts to quiet her lips with his own.

"I love you so much, Guinevere," he whispers against her lips, kissing the words into her.

Their time apart, though brief. The knowledge they may be discovered at any moment. The fear that they may all be dead tomorrow. The changes in her body from the pregnancy. The high emotions from their argument. The scandalous nature of the what and the where. All these factors whirl in their brains, sending them both spiraling.

"Oh… Arth… ah… oh!" she cries out, loudly, and Arthur is too distracted by his own release crashing down on him to be able to muffle her cries in time.

xXx

Merlin's head snaps in the direction of Guinevere's cry. Before he can even take a step he feels Gwaine's hand clamp around his wrist.

Merlin looks down at his friend to see him smirking and shaking his head "no" very slightly.

 _Oh. Right._ Merlin sighs, rolls his eyes, and sits down. Then he sees the others and knows they heard her as well. Bors is intently studying his plate. Percival is blushing to the very tips of his ears. Both Elyan and Lancelot look as though they are going to be ill. Then he hears Gwaine chuckle beside him.

"So," a slightly pink Sir Leon clears his throat, tactfully starting up a conversation. "Percival, why have you decided to join us in our quest? I am curious."

"Well," Percival says, setting his plate down, "the short version is that I have no love for Cenred or his men. They completely decimated my village."

"I'm very sorry to hear that, and am sorry for your losses," Leon nods respectfully.

"Thank you. My village was just on the border of Cenred's kingdom. Small, insignificant, but still his men would hassle us from time to time. Such is the way with border towns, you know."

The men nod in understanding.

"Usually I was able to scare them away. I was the biggest lad in the village, obviously, and while I am a skilled fighter, I do prefer to avoid violence. But they didn't need to know that. Most of the time all I would have to do is come stomping over and ask, 'Is there a problem?' and they'd turn tail and run," he chuckles.

"So how did they destroy the village if they were so intimidated by you?" Elyan asks.

"One of the young girls in the village came to me with a report of a strange beast approaching. Appeared to be scared out of her skin. So I took up my gear and went out beast-hunting." He sighs, looking down at his hands, clenched tightly together between his knees. "It was a ruse. A trap to lure me away from town so they could attack."

"The girl was working for Cenred?" Bors asks.

"I think he must have made her some pretty promises. Her mistake was believing them. When I returned, she was as just as dead as everyone else."

"The entire village was in shambles," Percival's voice is quiet now. "Houses burned, the livestock left alive running frantically about. Everyone dead. Women. Old people. Children. Babies. My family, my sisters… my Rhoslyn."

"I'm so sorry, Percival," Merlin says quietly, surreptitiously wiping tears from his eyes. He sees that Elyan is doing the same, though, so he doesn't feel quite so embarrassed.

"Were any of Cenred's men still there when you returned?" Gwaine asks. His face is sad as well, but there is a stony anger behind the sadness.

"Yes, a few. Needless to say, I still had my hunting gear on me, and, well…" he shrugs.

"They got better than what they deserved," Gwaine says darkly.

"Too right," Bors agrees.

"I buried everyone, except Cenred's men, of course, and then I left," Percival continues. "I couldn't stay there. I wandered for weeks before I ran into Lancelot."

"Literally," Lancelot chuckles. "I was being chased by a group of bandits because I wouldn't surrender my sword or my belongings. One man became eight, and so I thought I'd try to outrun them. Ended up running smack into the stone wall that is Percival."

"I squared up the odds a bit," Percival grins. "I was still upset over the injustice done to my village and my people, and those bandits caught the brunt of it, I'm afraid."

"Well, they certainly won't be bothering anyone else, we do know that," Lancelot says, nodding at his friend.

"Indeed not. We left them with their lives, but only just," Percival states.

"I was grateful to him, and we traveled together, intending it to be temporary, just to the edge of the forest. But as we got to know one another, we learned we shared many of the same ideals, so we kept each other company longer," Lancelot adds.

"Were you heading somewhere in particular?" Merlin asks.

"Don't know. Never got there," Percival shrugs, smiling. "Then your little bird came and we made tracks for Lyonesse."


	8. Chapter 8

"Ouch," Gwen complains, squirming as the rough bark of the tree suddenly makes itself known.

"Don't squirm or we'll end up starting over again," Arthur chuckles into her neck. He is still holding her in his arms, still joined with her, still regaining his breath.

"The tree is uncomfortable," Gwen says, kissing his forehead.

"Sorry," Arthur apologizes, and slowly lowers her to her feet. He grins when he sees her trousers hanging half-off, one boot still on.

"I must look a mess," she says, embarrassed, bending to put her trousers back on.

"You look beautiful," Arthur counters, tying his own trousers closed.

She smiles at him, then her eyes grow wide. "Oh… the men… do you… do you think they heard… anything?" she stammers.

"No idea," he says. _Very likely,_ he thinks. "Guinevere," he starts again, pulling her into his arms, "about Lancelot…"

"I knew you wouldn't be _entirely_ pleased to see him," she says, her fingers fidgeting with the ties hanging at the neck of his shirt.

"He is a skilled fighter. Would have been an excellent knight. Has all the qualities, save one," he allows, releasing her and sitting heavily on the fallen tree.

"But," Gwen supplies.

"Exactly. _But._ I… I know you've chosen me, Guinevere, but… but the image of your face that morning, when you woke up and he was gone… the sadness, the disappointment there… I thought I had put that insecurity behind me when you broke the Vivian enchantment, but…"

"Arthur," Gwen stops him, the pain and uncertainty on his face too much. She sits beside him, turning his face towards hers. "Listen to me. You have no need to worry. My heart is completely yours. It always has been. Lancelot… Lancelot was a fancy, an idea. I never loved him."

Arthur breathes again, almost a sob. "Does he know this?"

"We talked, yes. He knows. I was… brutally honest with him. He knows that you are my world, the sun in my days, the moon and stars in my nights."

"I am?" he asks, his voice very small.

"Yes, Arthur. Did you not know this?" She leans over and kisses him once.

"I know that you are my life, my heart and my soul," he answers. Her hands still cup his face and he takes them in his own, kissing her fingers. "I know that without you I am half the man I could be."

"You doubted my feelings?" she whispers, suddenly anxious.

"No!" he exclaims. "No. Seeing him again… I… I guess I just wasn't sure if there was still a place in your heart that someone _else_ occupied."

"Lancelot," she says. He nods. "You are currently my heart's only occupant, Arthur, and it bursts at the seams with your presence."

"Currently?"

"Well, you'll have to share with…" she takes his hand and places it on her stomach.

Arthur's eyes grow soft and he smiles. He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come. So he pulls her to him and kisses her deeply, pouring the words he doesn't have into the kiss.

xXx

"Elyan, is there any armor in your forge?" Arthur asks, striding into the camp, taking command of the conversation immediately lest Gwaine let fly with a telling remark.

Gwen is holding his hand, trying not to look too embarrassed. Arthur catches Gwaine's knowing wink and turns a glare on him that would freeze an entire lake.

"A bit," Elyan says quietly, trying to erase the memory of his sister's impassioned cry from his brain.

"I need some chainmail. So does Gwaine. So do you, Elyan."

"I should like some, too," Merlin says.

"Do you really need any, Merlin?" Arthur asks. "Can't you just… magic your attackers away?"

"Morgana and Morgause don't know about me, Arthur. About what I can do. I think it would be wise to keep it that way. The less she knows, the better."

"It will give us an advantage," Leon agrees, nodding. "They would change their strategy completely if they knew we had magic on our side as well."

"Hmm," Arthur nods, sitting beside Gwen.

"Armory," Leon says.

"What's that?" Arthur asks.

"We sneak into the armory. Sneak in, take what you need, sneak out. Simple."

"Then we find my father," Arthur nods.

"And Gaius," Merlin adds.

"Right." Arthur switches into battle mode, standing, pacing, thinking. He stops and looks at Bors.

"Bors, you stay here with Guinevere."

"Yes, Sire," he nods.

"Arthur, I don't need a babysitter," Gwen protests, standing and scowling at him.

"He's not babysitting. He's guarding. There's a difference."

"Not when there's nothing from which to be guarded, Arthur."

"You are not staying here alone, and that's the end of it," he says.

"I will be fine, Arthur. No one knows we're out here."

Merlin steps in between them. "Gwen, don't be stubborn. Arthur, don't bully your wife," he snaps. "Let's go; time's wasting."

Arthur opens his mouth to say something, but just gives up and closes it. He looks at Gwen, gives her a kiss, and walks away.

"She doesn't leave your sight," he orders Bors.

"Arthur," Merlin chides.

"I'm not bullying my wife, I'm bullying one of my knights. I'm allowed to do that," he snaps stomping past.

Gwen sits with a _humph._ "I guess I'll just clean up after everyone, then," she grumbles.

"There you go, keep yourself busy," Gwaine grins as he walks past her, ducking the apple core she's flung at his head.

The men creep along the forest's edge, keeping just out of sight, moving parallel to the castle, towards the armory.

"There," Leon points to a low door in the wall surrounding the castle. It is still very early, so there is not a lot of movement from Cenred's men.

"Okay. To the wall," Arthur says, moving forward, reaching the treeline and sprinting across the grass for the wall.

They get to the door, and Leon gives a shove. "Stuck," he says, then shoves with his shoulder.

"Allow me," Percival says, putting his hand on Leon's shoulder. Leon steps aside, and when Percival opens the door, he scowls.

"Handy to have around," Gwaine comments, walking through the door.

There is a handful of men milling around, actually looking rather bored.

"Merlin," Arthur turns, "I believe a diversion is in order."

"I think you are right, my lord," Merlin says, tapping his chin a moment, thinking. "Ah."

He fixes his gaze at a stand of spears on the training grounds, on the far side of the field, away from the armory. A whisper and the flash of his eyes and the stand falls over noisily. Three of the men go to investigate.

"That's it?" Leon asks, unimpressed.

"Yeah, you didn't even draw them all away," Gwaine complains.

Merlin heaves an exasperated sigh, and turns his attention to a small tent near the stand. Another whisper and flash, and the tent bursts into flames. The other three men run towards it now, leaving the armory unguarded.

"That's better," Arthur says. "Come on."

They sprint for the building, ducking quickly inside.

"Good thing no one is inside, hey?" Gwaine remarks.

"Here," Leon strides over and starts tossing chainmail at them, and they quickly pull it on over their heads.

"Merlin, you really are hopeless," Arthur sighs, and reaches over to help him.

"I don't normally put this on myself, Arthur," he grunts, finally emerging.

"I'd say grab more weapons, but they won't really do any good, will they?" Arthur sighs.

"Not really. But if it makes you feel better, by all means," Merlin says, waving his hand at the array of weaponry.

xXx

"What did you find out about the Cup, Merlin?" Arthur asks as they creep along, heading for the dungeons.

"We need to spill it," Merlin answers.

"What?"

"It contains the blood of the immortal army. A drop from each man. We find it and knock it over."

"Then we can kill them?" Arthur asks.

"Then we can kill them."

"Finding it will be the trick," Leon mutters.

"Exactly," Merlin agrees.

They reach the entrance to the dungeon and Merlin turns. "I'm going to find Gaius. You can handle this without me."

"What? What if we need another diversion?" Arthur asks.

"Throw a rock or something," Merlin shrugs. "Some tactical genius you are," he mutters.

"Gwaine, Lancelot, go with Merlin, then," Arthur orders, shoving Gwaine's shoulder lightly in Merlin's direction.

"Thanks," Merlin says, and leads the other two down a darkened corridor.

"Come on," Arthur ducks into the dungeons, heading down the stairwell.

They reach the bottom to find two men guarding the entrance to the cells. Arthur looks at Leon, who bends and picks up a rock, handing it to him.

Arthur rolls his eyes and chucks the stone. One guard goes. Arthur sighs, but then Percival strides forward and simply knocks the other guard out.

"They may not be able to be killed, but they can still be dropped," he says.

The three of them enter the cells, the felled guard's keys in Arthur's hand. A few of his knights are in the cells already, and Arthur brings his finger to his lips to silence them before they start celebrating.

"Where is the king?" he whispers, and they point. "We'll be back for you, I promise," he says, and they nod, bolstered by the return of their prince.

Percival looks around, at the men's faces. He sees admiration. Hope. _He is more than just a leader to these men._

"Father," Arthur sighs, finding him in a cell with Geoffrey. He puzzles over why Geoffrey is with him, but now is not the time for questions.

"Arthur!" Uther exclaims softly, standing. Arthur opens the door and Uther comes forward.

 _He looks smaller. Older,_ Arthur notes. _I haven't been gone that long, my departure coupled with Morgana's betrayal has lessened him._ "Come on," he says, taking his father's arm while Leon sees to Geoffrey.

"We must move quickly. Can you manage?" Arthur asks.

"Yes, I think so," Uther says, his face a mask.

xXx

Merlin steals through the corridors, heading towards Gaius' chambers. Gwaine and Lancelot follow, eyes ever alert for guards.

"Not many know this way," Merlin explains. They reach a corner and he stops, peeking.

There is a guard.

" _This_ corridor, however, is common knowledge," he whispers, smiling.

"How many?" Lancelot asks.

"Just one. I've got him," Merlin says. He looks around the corner and whispers, " _Swefn._ "

The guard slumps to the floor, sound asleep.

"Okay," Merlin says, and the trio run to Gaius' door. Merlin tries the door, opening it slowly, quietly.

"Gaius?" he calls softly. The room is deathly quiet. Nothing moves save the motes of dust floating across a lone sunbeam. They slip inside, closing the door behind them.

"Gaius?" Merlin calls, slightly louder. "Gwaine," he nods up to the door leading to his old room.

Gwaine nods and heads that way, while Merlin goes to a closet and Lancelot watches the door.

Merlin opens the closet door to find Gaius hiding within, a large piece of wood in his hands. It looks like a chair leg.

"Gaius!" Merlin exclaims.

"Merlin!" Gaius drops his makeshift weapon and hugs Merlin tightly, overjoyed at seeing him.

"Merlin, I'm happy to see you, but you couldn't have picked a worse time," Gaius says.

"I know, Gaius, that's actually the reason we came back," Merlin says. "You remember Lancelot and Gwaine," he motions to the other two.

"Of course," he says nodding to the men. "Don't tell me Arthur's come back as well," he says.

"Gwen, too, but she is staying out of Camelot. And Morgana is not to know she is anywhere near here."

"Well, I don't plan on encountering Morgana, but why all the secrecy about Gwen?"

"I'll explain once we get you to safety, to our camp. Grab some supplies, Gaius, we're smuggling you out of here."

xXx

Arthur's party returns first. Gwen has prepared food for lunch, and tidied things up a bit. She and Bors have gathered more firewood, and Bors even snared a few rabbits.

"Arthur," she breathes, rushing to him, into his waiting arms, almost welcoming the familiar cold harshness of his chainmail against her, and realizes how much she has missed it. Missed him, being who he is meant to be. _He was a lousy farmer._

He hugs her warmly, and kisses her cheek.

She sees that they have successfully freed both Uther and Geoffrey and quickly bustles for water and food for them.

"Sire," she hands him a mug of water, and he ignores her.

"Father," Arthur says sharply. _I cannot believe he is being this way still._

Uther takes the mug without looking at her. She hands one to Geoffrey.

"Thank you, Gwen," Geoffrey says kindly, taking the water gratefully.

"When have you last eaten?" she asks him, realizing that Uther will not talk to her, even though she is being every bit the serving girl he would remember her to be.

"I don't recall," Geoffrey says. "Before we were put in the cells."

Gwen nods grimly, and sets about preparing plates for them from the provisions they have.

She serves Uther first, then Geoffrey, as she should, and after a glare from his son, Uther mutters, "Thank you."

"So it's a party, now?" Gwaine asks as their group returns. He groans inwardly when he sees Uther, but holds his tongue.

"Gaius!" Gwen exclaims, running to hug the old physician.

"Gwen, I'm so happy to see you," Gaius says, kissing her cheek. "You look well, dear, very well indeed," he observes.

"Thank you. You look just the same," she teases, laughing.

"Arthur, I see a little hard work hasn't hurt you at all," Gaius observes, surprised when Arthur hugs him as well.

"He didn't really do that much hard work," Merlin says.

"Yes, Merlin, I did notice you seem to be a bit bulkier than you were when you left," Gaius laughs as Arthur scowls.

Gwen sets about feeding everyone, and soon the group is quiet again, their mouths full.

"Guinevere, make sure you save some food for yourself," Arthur says.

"Yes, Gwen, you need to eat," Merlin agrees.

"Merlin," Arthur leans over and whispers, "you know, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Merlin answers. "Don't make that face, she didn't tell me, I just knew."

"Not fair."

"Can't help it."

Arthur scowls anyway, and Gwen elbows him. She didn't hear their conversation, but she knows that they're talking about her.

Uther finally looks around. "Sir Leon. Where the hell have you been?"

"Sire, Sir Bors and I have been searching for Prince Arthur."

"For over two moons?" Uther asks, suspicious.

"Well, Prince Arthur is here, so for all you know, we were successful in our quest."

"What is this impertinence? I expect it from… _him,_ " he waves his hand vaguely in Gwaine's direction, "but never you. You disappoint me, Leon."

Leon actually looks rather nonplussed at this news, and merely shrugs his shoulders slightly.

"I'm impressed," Gwaine sidles up to Leon. "And here all this time I thought you were just another stuffed-shirt noble."

"Too much time away, I guess," Leon quietly answers.

"Keep it up," Gwaine advises. "It looks good on you." He laughs and wanders over to sit next to Merlin.

xXx

After lunch, Uther leaves the group to go sit a short distance away, staring into the woods, facing toward Camelot. The only person he allows near is Geoffrey.

"We need to talk to him, Arthur," Gwen says quietly.

"I know. I just wish it was a better time," Arthur answers.

"There will never be a good time for this discussion. Not with him."

"True." He sighs, and reaches over caress her stomach, just barely swollen, not yet noticeable to most. "Perhaps the news of an heir will soften the blow."

"Heh," Gwen laughs a humorless laugh. "Doubtful, since half of it is mine."

"Worth a shot. Merlin," he calls.

"Yeah?"

"We're going to talk to my father. I want you to come, too."

"Um, okay."

Arthur grabs his arm. "Better keep quiet about the wizard stuff," he mutters.

"Do I _look_ like I have a death wish?"

The trio approaches cautiously. Arthur clears his throat. "Father?"

"You have dishonored Camelot," Uther says, his voice cold and low. Arthur stops in his tracks.

 _No beating around the bush, then._ "Your kingdom has been taken by Morgana and Morgause and _I_ am to blame?" he counters.

Uther turns and looks at his son. "Yes. Your flight of fancy, your little… _affair_ brought this on the kingdom."

"It is neither a flight of fancy nor an affair, and it has done no such thing. It is you who has dishonored the kingdom. And me."

"By not indulging your little romance with a common maid?"

"By not having the foresight to change as the times do. By denying the kingdom its rightful heir and leaving it vulnerable to Morgana's treachery."

"You brought this on us. If you had stayed and obeyed my order to end the relationship, this wouldn't have happened. If the girl had been executed for the witch that she is, this wouldn't have happened."

"I disagree. And for the last time, Guinevere is no witch. She is my wife."

Uther sighs heavily.

"The poultice you found was Morgana's doing, father. She planted it there to frame Guinevere. But this is not the time for that discussion. Don't you see, _Morgana_ is solely to blame for this mess. She and Morgause."

"I… I do not wish to believe that," Uther admits quietly, his voice trembling slightly.

"Father, I know she is your blood. Gossip travels very fast. That does not change the fact that she has usurped your throne."

"If you had been here…" Uther tries again.

"She still would have found a way. Morgause is very powerful."

"You abandoned the kingdom."

"You abandoned _me,_ " Arthur shoots back.

There is a heavy silence, the air thick between them as father and son regard one another. No one moves. They hardly breathe.

"You cannot stay married if you intend to return."

"You are no longer the king, Father. But I still intend to reclaim Camelot for you as well as remain married to Guinevere."

"I can have your marriage dissolved."

"You wouldn't! Guinevere is…"

"The maid is with child, I presume?" Uther asks, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"She has a _name,_ Father, and yes, she is carrying my heir. Your heir. And our marriage is legally binding, so don't bother looking into it," Arthur says, his eyes flicking to Geoffrey. "I assume that's going to be the next order."

Geoffrey nods once, observing the interchange, absorbing every detail.

"And who performed the ceremony? Some local magistrate in a tiny speck of a village?" Uther asks disdainfully.

"A Druid priest," Merlin says quietly from behind Arthur. He has his arm around Gwen, supporting her just in case she needs it.

"Bah," Uther says dismissively.

"My lord," Geoffrey speaks up, clearing his throat. "This should not be dismissed so lightly."

"Whatever for?"

"A handbinding ceremony performed by a Druid priest is completely legal and binding. _Completely._ "

"So?"

"So, the Druids take marriage very seriously. It is very sacred to them. And Druid priests will not marry just any couple. They will only perform a ceremony for a couple that _truly_ belongs together, that _truly_ have a love and a bond that will withstand time, Sire."

"Did you know that, Merlin?" Gwen whispers to him.

He nods, very slightly, a trace of a smile on his face, and she squeezes his arm.

Arthur smiles, feeling he has the advantage now.

"Can it be broken, though?" Uther asks, unwilling to budge.

"The priest gave you parchments?" Geoffrey asks Arthur.

Arthur turns and looks at Merlin. "Of course," Merlin says.

"Then it would be very difficult indeed, my lord," Geoffrey says.

"Difficult but not impossible," Uther muses.

"Father…"

"The only way to do it is to find the priest that performed the ceremony. Only he can undo the bonds that unite them."

"Then we will find him," Uther says simply.

Arthur laughs now, and Uther wheels on him. "What's so funny?"

"Father, Druid priests can only be found if they allow it. If they don't want to be found, they won't be. You may as well be chasing the wind."

"May I say something?" Gwen speaks finally, quietly.

"Of course," Arthur says, answering before Uther can say no.

"Sire, I know I don't measure up to your standard," she starts, stepping forward. Arthur takes her hand as she reaches him. "But will you at least tell me if your disapproval is based on anything other than my standing, my class? Is it merely because I was the Lady Morgana's maidservant, or is there something more?"

Uther says nothing, looking off in the distance.

"Father, answer the question."

"I do not know you as a person," Uther finally says. "I only know that you are a servant, and that automatically makes you unworthy of my son."

Arthur's anger rises again, and Gwen squeezes his hand.

"Sire," she says again, "do you trust your son?"

"I used to."

"Till recently, has he been a prince worthy of Camelot's throne?"

"Till recently."

She pauses. "Do you love your son?" This last question she asks very softly.

Uther hesitates. He knows he must answer. "Yes," he replies, just as quietly.

"Arthur is brave, wise, and has a good heart. He did not have to come to Camelot's aid. _We_ did not have to come to _your_ aid. He would lay down his life for this kingdom. For you."

"I know this."

"And I would lay down my life for him."

"Guinevere…"Arthur starts, not sure where she's going with this.

"Please, Arthur, let me finish," she says. "I love this kingdom just as much as Arthur does. As much as you do, Sire. I have lived my whole life here. As a servant, working my fingers raw for nobility such as yourself. I often received little, if any thanks, and still I always worked my hardest and kept my mouth closed and my eyes and ears open." She pauses a moment, then continues. "I have been imprisoned in the dungeons more than once. By you. My father was wrongfully executed. By you. I was forced to flee for my life because I did nothing more than find love with a prince, love that I spent a _very_ long time trying to ignore and deny. Yet despite all the heartbreak and hardship I have experienced here, it is my home as much as it is yours, my lord. Please believe me when I say if you would but give me a chance, I will prove to you that I am worthy of your son. After all the grief you personally have caused me, here I stand, ready to help in any way I can. For Camelot. For Arthur. Even for you."

Uther is quiet for a long moment, letting her words sink in. Finally he speaks. "A very long time," he repeats her words, furrowing his brows, finally looking at her. "How long, exactly? How long were the two of you sneaking around under my nose before you were finally discovered?" His eyes dart from her face to Arthur's and back.

"Nearly two years, Father," Arthur says matter-of-factly. _That is the detail you choose to comment on?_ "Honestly, if she was enchanting me, don't you think evidence would have been found long before it did?"

"That was false evidence, as Arthur said," Merlin says from behind them. "Morgana planted it. It is she who is the witch, not Gwen."

"As I said," Arthur echoes.

"You have proof?" Uther says, raising his eyebrows at Merlin.

"You need proof? Go to the castle and take a look in the throne room, my lord! Your proof is right there, sitting on your throne wearing a jeweled crown!" Merlin says, raising his voice.

"You will lower your voice!" Uther snaps, standing.

"You are not the king anymore," Merlin says, raising his chin, standing his ground.

Uther growls slightly, irritated. "What of the infatuation with Lady Vivian?" he says suddenly, spinning on Arthur.

" _That_ was an enchantment," Arthur says. "As my father, I would have thought that you would have been able to see the difference in my behavior with Lady Vivian and my behavior with Guinevere. I was a bumbling idiot those few days I was enchanted with Vivian. I could barely hold my own in the ring against Olaf. _Olaf!_ The enchantment made me weak. Guinevere makes me strong." Arthur looks at the sky, exasperated. "You truly do only see what you wish to see."

"Camelot cannot have an uneducated commoner as its future queen," Uther says, trying a different approach.

"I can read and write as well as you, my lord. And I know numbers and history, and I have worked enough with Gaius that I even know a fair amount of science and medicine," Guinevere defends herself, no longer intimidated. _By the gods, he is stubborn and ignorant._

"Oh really? And how is it you have been educated?"

"My mother worked in Sir Leon's household when I was a girl. Lady Amelia had a fondness for my brother and me and would include us in the children's lessons. When I came here, Morgana discovered that I was clever and had a thirst for knowledge, so she would teach me everything she learned at her own lessons."

"Guinevere's intuition and wisdom is surpassed only by her beauty, Father. Maybe. Even Gaius acknowledges that her words should be heeded. She knows her mind and she knows the minds of the people. Furthermore, she is not afraid to stand up for them because she truly cares about them. How can you say that a person like that is not fit to be queen?" Arthur asks. _If you want to argue logic, I can argue logic._

"It is just not _done!_ " Uther finally yells, feeling defeated; running out of arguments.

"Father, you are the king. Well, you were, and if I have anything to say about it, you will be again. If anyone can change the rules, it is you. And if you don't, rest assured that I will do when my time comes, and then _I_ will take the glory of being the first king to place value on the common man, the first king to prize ability and worth over status." Arthur twists the knife just a little. Merlin smiles behind him, and Gwen clears her throat, hiding her smirk behind her hand.

Uther stares at his son. _The people would love a commoner queen. One of their own, sure to look after them, see to their needs,_ he suddenly realizes, the thought hitting him like a ton of bricks. He sits heavily on the same large rock he was on before.

"Leave me. I am weary and wish to rest and think," he says quietly.


	9. Chapter 9

_Crunch._

The sound of glass breaking beneath his head jolts Merlin from his fitful slumber. _Oh no!_ he thinks, scrambling into his bag.

The last item Merlin put in his bag before they left, almost on a whim, was the phial of water from the Lake of Avalon, entrusted to him by the Fisher King. The phial that has just broken under the weight of his head.

"No, no no…" Merlin mutters frantically, dumping the contents of his pack out onto the ground.

He watches, amazed, as the water runs between the items, pooling to one side. Eyes wide, he places his hand on the other things in the bag.

They're completely dry.

"Merlin," a soft, familiar voice whispers. Merlin looks around, searching for the voice.

"Freya?" he whispers.

"Here, Merlin," she calls him and he looks down into the pool. He sees her beautiful face smiling up at him from the surface and he almost bursts into tears.

"Freya!" he exclaims softly. "I've missed you so much."

"I miss you, too, Merlin. I don't have a lot of time, but I've come to help you."

"Help me?" He looks furtively around a minute. Everyone is sleeping except Gwaine, who is on watch a distance away, leaning against a tree. Merlin suspects he's fallen asleep on his feet.

"With your quest, of course. The immortal army is not infallible, Merlin," she says.

"I know, we have to spill the contents of the cup," he says, furrowing his brow.

"Ah, but to get there will require much skill and stealth. And you'll be battling men who are already dead."

"Already dead? I thought…"

"No, Merlin, they are not truly immortal. When their blood was added to the cup they gave up their lives to Morgause. They answer only to her, and are at her complete mercy. When they have served their purpose, she will dispose of them."

"That's so… cruel." Merlin suddenly feels an inexplicable sense of pity for these men. _They didn't know what they were getting into._

"Those men thought they were signing up for immortality, when in reality they were signing their own death sentences."

"Yes," he agrees sadly. Then he recovers himself, resolve back in place. "But how do we get past them?"

"There is one weapon that has the ability to kill that which is already dead," she says, eyeing him pointedly.

"Yes, of course," Merlin nods. Then he frowns. "But… I put it all the way out in the Lake…"

Freya smiles. "Do not underestimate me, Merlin. There is a small lake southwest of where you are camped. Follow the stream, you will find it. Come to that lake and there you will find it."

"I will come as fast as my legs will carry me," Merlin says. "Should… should Arthur come along?" he asks, suddenly feeling that Arthur should indeed be there.

"He knows your secret, Merlin. He may come. He should come. And the others as well."

"The others?" Merlin asks, puzzled.

"The future Knights of Camelot, yes," Freya nods, a knowing smile on her face.

"Future…" Merlin mutters. He sees Gwaine move out of the corner of his eye and looks up.

"Until we meet once again, Merlin," Freya's voice draws his attention back down just in time to see her image fading.

"Wait! Freya, come back…" Merlin pleads, leaning close to the water.

"Lose something, Merlin?" Gwaine asks, walking back over.

"Kind of, yes," Merlin says vaguely. Then he looks at Gwaine. "Wake up Elyan, Lancelot and Percival. We need to go somewhere," he says, standing. He walks over to where Arthur and Gwen are cuddled next to the fire, asleep in each other's arms.

 _He's going to kill me for waking him,_ Merlin thinks, knowing that this is the first real sleep Arthur has gotten since he left Lyonesse.

_"He hasn't really slept since we left," Gwaine told him earlier. "He says his mind is too active, but, between you and me, I think he missed Gwen. Hell, I know I would."_

He looks down at the pair of them, the red wool blanket from Fleta wrapped around them, Gwen tight in Arthur's arms, her face tucked into his chest.

Merlin crouches behind Arthur and reaches down, all the while thinking, _I am a dead man._

He pokes Arthur in the shoulder. "Arthur," he whispers.

Nothing.

Steeling himself, he lowers his finger again.

"Poke me again, Merlin, and you will lose that finger," Arthur mutters, opening one eye.

"Sorry. You know I wouldn't wake you if it wasn't important," Merlin whispers, not wanting to wake Gwen.

"What is it?" Arthur asks, somehow able to whisper menacingly.

"I know a weapon that will help us against Morgause's army."

"Oh?"

"We need to go get it."

"Now?" Arthur asks, a little louder, and Gwen squirms in his arms. "Shh," he shushes soothingly, quietly, smoothing her hair with his hand, kissing the top of her head softly.

"Yes, now," Merlin says, glancing up. "The guys are waiting. Sorry."

"All right," Arthur says, and he carefully, gently, unwinds himself from his wife and tucks her back in.

"Arthur?" she mutters, half asleep.

"I'll be back, Love," he whispers, "stay asleep." He kisses her forehead and stands. "Where?" he asks Merlin.

"This way," Merlin says, leading the way. Arthur and the other four follow.

"Hurry back," Leon calls softly, having been woken to keep watch while the others embark on their mini-quest. He pouts slightly as he watches them depart, wishing he could accompany them, but knowing his presence is more necessary here at the moment. _The future queen of Camelot must remain safe._

xXx

"Merlin, where are we going?" Arthur asks after a short time of walking in the dark.

"I'll know it when I see it," Merlin answers.

"You know, there was a time where that answer would have prompted all manner of snide remarks from me, Merlin," Arthur grumbles. "I kind of miss it."

"Sorry to ruin all your fun," Merlin says, grinning.

"Why is it only just us going?" Lancelot asks, curious. "Surely Bors and Leon should be a part of this as well."

"Not this time," Merlin says. "I can't explain it yet, but I have a feeling all will become clear soon enough."

"Besides, someone needs to protect Gwen," Gwaine says.

"And Gaius," Merlin says.

"And the king," Arthur adds after another moment.

"Oh yeah, him, too," Gwaine chuckles.

"Ah," Merlin declares. There is a body of water in front of them, either a very large pond or a very small lake. He looks around, looking for signs of… anything helpful. _All right, Freya, a little help please,_ he thinks.

"This mucky lake?" Arthur asks. "Merlin, I was willing to trust you here, trust your 'magical instincts,' but…" he trails off, watching as a small boat floats to the shore.

Except it isn't floating. It is moving with purpose.

"Thank you," Merlin mutters, and walks casually to the boat. It is not big enough for all six of them. "Arthur, I think you should come with."

"In that boat? With you?"

"Yes."

"There aren't any oars, Merlin."

"Scared?"

"Don't be silly," he says petulantly and stomps to the boat.

"What should we do?" Elyan asks.

"Um, wait here, I guess," Merlin says. "This won't take but I moment. I think."

"Very helpful," Gwaine says, sitting on a large rock.

Once both Arthur and Merlin are seated in the boat, it moves again, piloting itself towards the center of the lake while the four others watch from shore.

"That makes me nervous," Elyan says.

"What? The boat moving on its own?" Percival asks.

"Yes."

"Well, your friend Merlin there is a wizard, what were you expecting?"

"I don't know. I still haven't gotten used to that. See, you're lucky, Percival. You've only known Merlin this way. We all knew him as Arthur's friendly but slightly clumsy servant. So this is quite a revelation," Elyan explains.

"I knew," Lancelot admits.

"You did?" Gwaine asks.

"Yes. I saw it when I first came to Camelot. When I ended up banished, like you," he nods at Gwaine. "I promised him I would keep his secret. Being away from Camelot, it wasn't really that difficult," he shrugs.

"Shh. Something's happening," Percival says, pointing out to the lake. Arthur and Merlin have reached dead center. The boat stops.

A ripple a short distance from the boat draws Merlin's eyes. "There," he says, pointing.

"I see it," Arthur says, watching, fascinated, as a figure emerges from the water, gradually. A woman, walking slowly, deliberately, as if ascending a staircase. He glances at Merlin and is taken aback at the expression on his friend's face.

_He is entranced. I've never seen him look at anyone that way. Wait, is that…?_

"Merlin, is that the druid girl?" Arthur asks. "The cursed one?"

"Was," Merlin whispers, standing as she reaches the boat.

She appears to be standing on a platform just below the surface of the water, though Arthur knows there is none there. She is beautiful and pale, and strangely dry, swathed in a gown of shimmering silver, ethereal, as if it was made of moonlight itself. Her long dark hair falls about her shoulders in soft waves, and she is gazing back at Merlin, mirroring his rapt expression.

"Freya," Merlin breathes.

"Hello, Merlin," Freya smiles at him, lifting a slender bare arm, holding her hand out to him.

He touches her hand, gasping as he lifts it to his lips and kisses it almost greedily. "You're real," he breathes, pressing his cheek against her hand.

"For the time being," she says softly, smiling at him, turning her hand to touch his face with her palm now. Then she addresses Arthur.

"Arthur Pendragon," Freya beckons him, "rise."

Arthur does as he is told, standing, a bit nervous, but the boat is quite stable. _Of course it is._ "My lady," he nods, furrowing his brow momentarily. _Why did I feel compelled to address her as such?_

"Thank you, Arthur," she nods back at him.

"Thank you?"

"For freeing me from my curse," she says. "I never got a chance to thank you."

"But you are dead… aren't you?"

"I am the Lady of the Lake. I am neither dead nor alive. I exist only to help bring Albion to its glory."

"In that case, it is I who should be thanking you."

"That is not necessary, Arthur," she smiles. "We each have our destinies to fulfill."

"Merlin says there is a weapon I need to bring down Morgause's army?" he asks, wanting to get to the point but not wanting to appear ungrateful or disrespectful.

"Yes." Freya lifts her hand and holds her palm out. Arthur follows the line of her arm and watches as a sword, shining and true, emerges from the water and flies into her hand.

"This sword, forged by the most skilled blacksmith Camelot has ever known, its blade burnished in the fire of Kilgarrah, the Great Dragon, is called Excalibur. It is meant to be wielded by you and you alone, Arthur Pendragon. It is the only weapon that will harm Morgause's undead puppet army." She holds it across her palms and extends them toward Arthur. "It is yours. Use it wisely. Guard it well. Do not let it fall into the hands of another," she instructs, her face grave.

"Thank you, Freya," Arthur whispers, taking the sword. He wraps his hand around the hilt, feeling its weight, its balance. _It feels perfect. Like it is a part of me._

"You are most welcome, Arthur," she says, smiling at him. Then she turns her attention back to Merlin.

"Merlin," she says, and once again Arthur is struck by the connection they have. He steps back and sits in the boat, waiting.

"You know your task. Your duty," she says.

"Yes," he answers, nodding gravely.

"You must do what is necessary, Merlin."

"I know," he nods.

She reaches out to him again. "My time is almost up. Do not fail in your quest."

He takes her hand again, but this time it is not enough. Merlin reaches out to her, and she moves closer, right beside the boat now. He cups her face gently between both of his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks, surprised to find them slightly wet with her tears. Freya's hands come up to hold his wrists, stroking the backs of his hands with her thumbs.

Merlin leans in and kisses her then, a longing, passionate, heart-wrenchingly sad kiss. A kiss of farewell.

He pulls gently away, leaning his forehead on hers for just a moment.

Arthur watches, moved more than he would readily admit. Freya turns her head slightly, whispers something in Merlin's ear, and withdraws gently.

Merlin nods once, a small, sad nod. Then he watches as she turns and descends back into the lake. She never looks back.

"Goodbye, Freya," Merlin whispers, and sits.

The boat starts moving, turning back towards the shore where the men are waiting.

Arthur wants to ask. He really does. But he knows anything he says now will be shot down or ignored. So instead he studies his new sword, running his fingers down the blade, across the runes near the hilt, testing the edge with his thumb and finding it quite sharp.

"Who was the most skilled blacksmith Camelot has ever known?" Arthur decides to ask, thinking it a safe enough question.

"Tom," Merlin states simply.

"Guinevere's father made this?" Arthur asks, holding it up.

"Gwen said that he called it the finest sword he ever made."

"I am indeed honored."

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"I know you're curious. I'll tell you later."

"I'm trying not to ask."

"I can tell," Merlin chuckles and wipes his face, though he is not ashamed of his tears.

"When you're ready, Merlin."

"Thank you."

The boat reaches the shore and Arthur sits a moment longer, staring at the sword. An idea floats into his head as he looks down at it. _Do I dare?_

Arthur slowly climbs out of the boat and turns to the four men standing and watching, their faces various shades of shocked.

"Men," Arthur says, resting his hands on the hilt of his new sword, "I would like to give you my most heartfelt thanks for your aid during this time. Camelot needs you, I need you, and you have volunteered your services, though you know it may well cost all our lives."

The men regard him gravely, wondering where he is going with his speech.

"Because if this, I want to ensure that the four of you are honored in the way you deserve. You each intend to fight nobly for Camelot, to restore her to my father and me," he pauses, watching as each of them nods slightly. "And so you shall be treated nobly."

Arthur lifts Excalibur, holding it up perpendicular, in front of his face. "Kneel, my friends."

 _He's really doing it,_ Merlin thinks, biting back his grin as he watches, fascinated.

Arthur addresses each man in turn.

"Arise, Sir Gwaine of Camelot."

"Arise, Sir Elyan of Camelot."

"Arise, Sir Percival of Camelot."

"Arise, Sir Lancelot of Camelot."

The men stand, tall and proud, and at that moment, the clouds part and the full, shining moon shines down on them. So bright is it that they blink in surprise, and look over at the lake, which is glittering in a rather otherworldly way.

Merlin smiles. _Freya approves. The future knights of Camelot, she had said._

"Merlin," Arthur turns now. "I… I don't know what to do with you. I think we can all agree that while you are quite brave and you have your own… unique skill set, you are no knight."

Merlin chuckles and nods. "I am quite content to continue being your servant, my lord," he says humbly.

"Are you now?" he arches an eyebrow at him.

"Well, at least until I can be open with everyone about who I am," Merlin answers pointedly, reminding them all.

"In that case, Merlin, when the time comes, when you are ready, say the word and I will do whatever I can to reward you for your years of loyalty and friendship," Arthur nods respectfully at him.

Merlin is stunned. "Thank you," is all he can manage, quietly.

"My father may have my head over this," Arthur mutters, but then he laughs. "But you're saving his kingdom, so who knows?"

"We'll keep it quiet for now," Elyan says. "The knighthood thing, I mean."

"For now," Gwaine smirks.

"Come on, let's get back. Try to catch some more sleep," Arthur says, turning.

"What is that she gave you, Arthur?" Elyan asks.

"Magic sword," Arthur says, giving it an experimental swish.

"More importantly, who was that lady that was all over our Merlin?" Gwaine asks.

xXx

 _Cold._ Gwen scrunches herself tighter, huddling into her blanket. _Why am I so cold?_ She slowly wakes, and realizes that she is missing the cocoon of warmth provided by her husband's firm yet surprisingly comfortable body.

"Arthur?" she whispers, sitting up suddenly, looking around. "Arthur?" she repeats, louder now, trying not to sound too panicked.

"Gwen, it's all right," Leon comes bounding over now, having heard her. He throws a few more logs on the fire when he sees her shivering and sits beside her, wrapping his long arm around her to give her some warmth from his body and his cape.

"Where is everyone?" she asks, looking around. She can see Bors, Uther, Gaius, and Geoffrey, but the others are gone.

"They went to retrieve some kind of weapon, my lady," Leon explains, his face a bit puzzled.

"Weapon? What sort of weapon?"

"I have no idea. Merlin was going on about some kind of special weapon, and they had to go right away."

"Why are you and Bors still here?"

He shrugs. "We apparently were not needed on this mission."

She peers up at him.

"Honest, that's all I know. We'll find out more when they return. Are you warmer?"

"Yes, thank you," she says. They sit quietly for a minute. "It doesn't trouble you at all, does it? Me being Arthur's wife?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"I guess I was just prepared for all nobles to have the same mindset as the king," she says, glancing over at Uther, who, as if on cue, starts snoring. _Ah, that's where Arthur gets it from._

"My lady," Leon starts.

"And there's that. You seem so at ease addressing me as such, and I cannot get used to hearing it! I'm not _really_ a lady."

"You are the prince's wife. So you should be addressed as such, _Princess,_ " he smiles, emphasizing the last word.

She huffs, exasperated. "Why?"

"Truth?"

"Of course, Sir Leon. I wouldn't be asking if I didn't want the truth."

"Ah, there: the answer you have just given me should give you your answer."

"Hmm," she thinks, twisting her lips to the side.

"Gwen, you and I have known each other a very long time," he says, and she nods. "I have known Arthur just as long. You and I grew up together; Arthur and I grew up together, trained together, became knights together. The only people I have known longer than the two of you are family. Yes, you were a servant. But you are also the kindest, truest, most noble person I know. Noble in here," he points to his heart, "not because of some family crest on an old parchment."

"Thank you," she whispers.

"And since I'm being honest, I will also say that I wasn't really surprised. About the two of you."

"What?" she exclaims quietly, looking at him, her eyes wide. "We were discreet, I thought…"

"You were, don't worry. I just have the advantage of knowing both of you very well and I also am noted for being observant. One of my strong points in battle, you know."

"I do know that, yes."

"I started noticing things. Like how Arthur always seemed to be in a better mood if he had just seen you. He didn't even have to speak to you, he could just see you passing and his face would change. He stopped being such a prat, too," he laughs, and Gwen joins him.

"I think Merlin had a part to play in that as well," she points out.

"He yelled at me for giving him special treatment while training for the joust once," Leon remembers. "You and Merlin, you've got this… _way_ with him. You know he is the prince and you give him the respect he deserves, but…"

"But when he's being an idiot we don't hesitate to tell him," Gwen finishes, smiling, knowing exactly which joust Leon is talking about.

"And for whatever reason, with the two of you, he actually _responds_ to that. It's amazing."

"It's part of his charisma," Gwen says. "His appeal. He says he cannot know if he has worth as a man or a prince if people automatically agree with everything he says just because he is the prince. He was quite torn up about it for a while."

"He will be a great king," Leon says, nodding.

"Yes," Gwen nods.

Just then they hear a moan. Gwen looks. Uther. He's curled on his side, clutching his stomach, moaning horribly.

 _Big baby,_ Gwen thinks, but stands and hesitantly approaches him, Leon hot on her heels.

"Sire?" Leon asks quietly.

He moans again. "Stomach," he gasps.

Gwen looks over at Geoffrey, who is still asleep, but he's squirming and slightly sweaty.

Leon looks at Gwen.

"We all ate the same things they ate," she says. "I wonder if they overdid after having nothing for so long," she muses.

"I'll wake Gaius," Leon says.

"No, I can take care of this," Gwen says, crouching beside Uther.

"Sire, I'm going to bring you something that will help. It will take a minute or two, but I'll be back."

He moans again.

"Where are you going?" Leon asks.

"Come with me," she says. "Arthur will kill us both if I go wandering off alone." She tosses two empty water skins at him.

Leon nods and follows as Gwen heads in the direction of the place she and Arthur talked, remembering seeing the herb she needs when she was there.

"Where are we going?" Leon asks.

"Not far. Thankfully the moon is so bright, even though it's gotten low. It must be getting near dawn. Ah. Here we are."

Leon watches as Gwen crouches down and gathers up handfuls of green leaves, picking them quickly and purposefully.

"What is that?"

"Mint. It will help soothe their stomachs. Would you fill those, please?" she asks, pointing to the stream gurgling nearby.

"Right," he says, hurrying over and filling them. "How did you know it was here?"

"Saw it yesterday when Arthur and I were, um, talking privately here," she says, keeping her face pointed away.

"Oh," he answers carefully.

As they walk back, Gwen breaks the silence with a quiet, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For your words earlier. Your support. If I know you are behind me, I think I will be okay."

"Every queen needs a champion, my lady," he smiles.

"I am not the queen," she chuckles.

"Not yet. But you will be. And when that time comes, it will be my privilege to defend you."

"Thank you again, Leon. You don't know what that means to me."

"To tell the truth, Gwen, I have always looked upon you a little more fondly than I probably should have," he says, avoiding her eyes now.

"Oh?" Gwen asks, quite surprised.

"But don't worry, I've come to realize that any… affection I have for you is more like that of a brother, nothing more. Honest."

Gwen smiles and looks down. "I am luckier than I perhaps deserve," she says, plucking a few leaves off of a bunch of mint now, tucking them into her palm.

"I do not think so," Leon says. "I would say that you are very deserving."

They stop at the edge of the camp, and Gwen leans up and kisses Leon on the cheek. He bends down to allow her to more easily reach, and she whispers, "Thank you," a third time before heading straight toward Uther and Geoffrey, both curled and moaning now.

"Here, Sire, chew these to start," Gwen says, pressing a few leaves into his palm. Then she gives some to Geoffrey.

"Sir Leon, will you put some of that water you collected on the fire, please?" she asks.

He clunks the pot accidentally, and the noise rouses both Bors and Gaius.

"Sorry," Leon apologizes.

"Gaius, the king and Geoffrey have stomach pains," Gwen scurries over once the old man has roused himself. "I've collected some mint for them."

"Good girl, Gwen," Gaius says. "You've got Leon heating water? Oh, you have. Of course you have," he pats her hand. "I probably should check on them anyway," he sighs, "though you seem to have the situation entirely in hand." He gets slowly to his feet and makes his way to Uther and Geoffrey, who both seem to be a little more comfortable.

Gwen finds the water to be hot enough, and adds the leaves, crushing them slightly to release their oils and letting them steep a bit.

She pours the tea into two mugs and brings them over, instructing the king and Geoffrey to sit up and drink.

"Thank you… Gwen," the king says. He uses her name finally but doesn't look at her.

 _Small victories, then._ She takes Uther's blanket at settles it around his shoulders to keep the chill away, then does the same for Geoffrey.

"Better?" she asks him, and Geoffrey nods. He looks less pale already.

"Thank you, Gwen," Gaius says. "You always had an eye for herbs."

Gwen just smiles and returns to her own blanket, throwing more wood on the fire, stoking it back up before wrapping herself up and sitting down.


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur, Merlin, and his new knights return to camp unnecessarily quietly, as everyone is already awake.

Arthur is stunned at the scene before him: Guinevere, crouched beside his father, her hand on Uther's forehead.

"You're not clammy anymore, Sire, that's good," he hears her soft voice. "Would you like some more?" she asks, indicating a metal mug at his feet.

"Yes, I think so, thank you," Uther answers, and Gwen turns to Geoffrey and checks him as well. Geoffrey refuses more of the drink.

She spots Arthur staring when she stands. "Welcome back," she says.

"What's going on?" Arthur asks, walking toward her. He drops a kiss on her cheek before turning to his father. "Father, are you ill?"

"Just some stomach pain. Gaius thinks that we ate too much after having nothing for more than a day," Uther explains.

 _Gaius thinks,_ Gwen cannot help but notice his words, and she shoots the king a tiny glare without realizing she's done so. _I hope he didn't see that._

"Well, actually Guinevere diagnosed it," Uther sighs, looking down. "And treated it. Gaius just confirmed her diagnosis."

 _I guess he did see,_ Gwen thinks, surprised and embarrased. She carefully schools her face before returning with more of the mint tea for the king.

Arthur smiles proudly, and Uther scowls just a little. "Go ahead and say it, you know you want to," he tells his son.

"I told you so," Arthur says, patting his father's shoulder. "Any trouble while we were away?"

"Apart from the king's indigestion, nothing, my lord," Leon reports.

"Good," Arthur says, glancing at Merlin, who nods slightly.

_"So our first priority, then, is to free the knights in the dungeons. Then we need to find that blasted cu— shh," Arthur stops discussing strategy and silences the group. "Footsteps," he whispers, barely audible._

_"I heard the alarm bells just before; they must have discovered the king is missing," Leon whispers, just as quietly._

_Merlin stands, walking silently to the edge of their camp. Arthur glances at his father and stands, joining Merlin. He knows Merlin doesn't need his assistance, but he also doesn't want to give away Merlin's secret to his father._

_Leon makes to stand, and Arthur motions that they should stay put and be silent. He gives one last glance back to check on Guinevere. She is sitting perfectly still, a beautiful statue, but her hands are clasped tightly in her lap, her white knuckles the only indicator of her anxiety. He winks at her and she smiles. Then Arthur disappears into the brush with Merlin._

_They make a circuit around their camp, Merlin muttering quietly, holding his hand out in front of him. Some of Morgause's men come almost too close at one point, but they pass by, narrowly missing them._

_"What exactly are you doing?" Arthur whispers. Merlin shakes his head no, unable to interrupt his spell._

_"Tell me later, then."_

_They finish, and Merlin looks at Arthur and simply says, "Repellant."_

_"Ah," Arthur nods. "Just something to keep them away, then. Subtle."_

_Merlin smiles and they re-enter the camp._

Leon steps closer to Arthur. "So what is it that you had to go get?"

Arthur unsheathes his new weapon just slightly and nods at it. "Magic sword."

"Nice," Leon says. "May I?"

"Um, sorry. I was expressly told not to let anyone else touch it. I know it's probably killing you, but she was very specific."

Leon's face falls slightly, but he understands.

"I know that sword," Gwen's soft voice behind him startles him slightly. He hadn't heard her approach.

"You do?" Leon asks.

"You should," Arthur answers.

"My father made that sword. He said it was the finest one he'd ever made. I… I gave it to Merlin years ago…"

"Yes," Merlin joins them now, "you did. It was always meant for Arthur, even though Uther used it originally," he frowns. "But it is where it belongs now."

"How?" Gwen asks, reaching her hand toward the handle, touching it with her finger, clearly missing her father.

Arthur looks down suddenly, but then Merlin says, "Arthur, I don't think Freya was referring to your wife when she gave you that warning."

"So what's so special about this sword?" Leon asks.

"It will kill Morgause's undead soldiers," Arthur explains. "At least that's what Merlin tells me."

"Merlin, what did you do to this sword?" Gwen asks.

"I didn't do anything. Kilgarrah burnished the blade with his fire," Merlin explains.

"I have _got_ to meet that dragon," she says. "Come, sit. Your father is going to get suspicious if we keep standing here whispering."

They sit, and Arthur studies the fire for a bit. Thinking.

Elyan comes to sit beside Gwen.

"He knighted us," he whispers in her ear.

Gwen gasps and looks at him. "Really?"

"With the new sword. At the edge of the lake. Gwen, I wish you had been there. It was beautiful."

"Father would be so proud of you, _Sir_ Elyan," she whispers, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"You, too, princess."

"Elyan," she lifts her head and looks at him, "since we're sharing secrets…"

"What?" he asks, intrigued.

She leans over and whispers quietly in his ear, "You're going to be an uncle."

He wraps his arm around her and hugs her sideways, kissing her forehead, unable to stop grinning.

xXx

"So. Morgana has had roughly two days of being queen. No opposition. No uprising. She and Morgause should be nice and comfortable about now, don't you think?" Arthur finally speaks. The moon has grown small and low, but the sun has not yet started to make its appearance.

"She's probably sleeping in some comfortable bed, thinking she's won," Gwaine adds, grinning, knowing what Arthur is thinking.

"Her army is growing bored. Perhaps getting a little lax," Percival joins in, a glint in his eyes.

"And I think it's fairly safe to say we definitely have the element of surprise on our side." This from Leon.

"Not only that," Arthur says, fishing into his tunic, "I still have the keys to the cells." He tosses them to Percival, who catches them easily.

"What's the plan?" Bors asks.

"Percival, Gwaine, Elyan, and Bors head to the dungeons and release the men," Arthur instructs.

"Leon, Lancelot, Merlin and I will go after the cup. Remember: we cannot kill these men, but they can be knocked unconscious, as Percival so deftly demonstrated yesterday. Save your swords for when they will be of real use."

"Um, once the cup is spilled, we still may not need them," Merlin says darkly. His face is grim. Sad. "Morgause did not give them immortality. She gave them certain death."

"So when the cup is spilled…?" Lancelot asks. Merlin nods.

"I'll wager Morgause didn't share that piece of information with them when she sold them her bill of goods," Elyan comments. There is general agreement around the fire.

"We must not pity these men," Merlin says, steeling himself. "Even though they were misled, they still enlisted, they still willingly gave their blood to the cup. They agreed to help them usurp the throne of Camelot."

"And therefore are our enemies," Arthur nods resolutely. "Come. The sooner we depart, the sooner we will achieve victory."

He stands, and the others follow suit. "Prepare yourselves for battle," he says, then walks over to where Guinevere is conferring with Gaius about preparations for wounded.

"Guinevere," Arthur calls softly, and she steps over to him.

He places his hands at her waist, his thumbs absently stroking her stomach. "I know I don't need to tell you to stay here, but… stay here."

"I know," she whispers. "Gaius and I will prepare bandages and supplies for any wounded."

"Good," he nods. He stares down at her for a few moments, as if he is trying to memorize her face. "If… if I don't make it back…"

"No," she interrupts him.

"No?"

"No. Don't say it. You will return to me, Arthur. I don't want to hear any 'if-I-never-see-you-again' speeches. Because that is not going to happen." She moves her hands up to cup his face, her thumbs stroking his cheeks, her fingertips in his hair. "I couldn't be more proud of you, Arthur, and I know you will return to me. To us."

His hand strays across her stomach now, and turns his face to kiss one of her hands.

"You will return to me, victorious, having reclaimed Camelot for your father. For yourself."

"For my people," he adds. "For our future."

"I love you so much, Arthur," she says, and he drops his head, resting his forehead against hers.

"I love you more," he answers.

"You always say that, and I just don't see how that's possible," she says, choking a small laugh as a few tears slip from her eyes.

Arthur dips his head further, claiming her lips, pulling her into a searing kiss, and her hands wind around his neck, into his hair as he clutches her waist, sliding around to hold her.

They part at last and he embraces her tightly, tucking his face into her neck, breathing her in so that he can take the memory of her scent with him.

Then, surprising everyone, Arthur drops to his knees and kisses Guinevere's stomach gently, reverently.

"Merlin," Gwaine mutters, "is Gwen…?"

Merlin nods.

"No wonder you were so against her coming here," Percival comments quietly.

Merlin nods again. "She'll be fine," he says. "She's well-protected," he adds, somewhat cryptically.

Arthur returns to his men, who are now all giving him knowing looks. "Okay, so the secret's out. Now focus," he tells them.

"What secret?" Leon asks.

"Gwen's with child," Gwaine tells him.

"She is?" Leon exclaims, wide-eyed.

"Maybe if you're lucky she'll let you be her nursemaid," Gwaine says, laughing over Leon's obvious excitement.

Arthur clears his throat.

_Right._

"I'm coming, too," Uther's voice makes them all turn.

"Father, you should stay here. You're still weak," Arthur argues.

"I am the king. Camelot is my kingdom. I will fight for her. And you seem to have an extra sword," he says, holding out his hand.

"Father, please…"

"Sword, Arthur."

Sighing, Arthur hands his father his old sword. The regular one. "Under protest." Arthur raises and eyebrow at him.

"Understood."

Gwen rushes forward to hug Merlin once, telling him to be careful. Then she hugs Elyan tightly, whispering, "I love you, little brother."

Arthur smiles at her, and she steps towards him, squeezes his hand once, and heads back beside Gaius and Geoffrey as the men depart.

xXx

Percival, Gwaine, Elyan, and Bors creep to the dungeons, Bors in the lead as he is most familiar with the grounds. Morgause's men are a little more alert than they were the last time they were here, no doubt threatened by Morgause to be more vigilant.

Nevertheless, they can still be dropped with a well-placed punch. Percival drops his third man and flexes his fingers, which crack noisily.

"Probably should switch hands," he muses.

"You can do that?" Bors asks.

"What, punch with my left as well as my right? Yeah, can't you?"

"Um, sure, of course," he answers, and Gwaine snickers.

Another corner, another guard. To prove his point, Percival delivers a perfect punch, left-handed, and the guard drops like a stone.

He grins at Bors, who rolls his eyes. "Come on, though here," he says. They are at a different entrance, a smaller one on the opposite side of the dungeon from yesterday.

"Clever, going a different way," Gwaine says, nodding.

"Not just a pretty face, mate," Bors answers.

"Not a pretty face at all," Gwaine shoots back.

"All right, ladies, Arthur's men are waiting," Percival interrupts. "Let's go and get them out."

Bors pushes the door open just a little, then, inspired, slams it open, wide and hard. They are rewarded with a grunt, a wheeze, and a thump as the guard behind it slides to the floor, unconscious.

"Nice," Elyan says as Bors grins. They slip inside and find a sea of hopeful faces peering through bars, drawn by the noise.

Bors immediately puts his finger to his lips and Percival holds up the keys. Behind them, Gwaine and Elyan have found some rope and are tying up the guard so he won't be any trouble when he wakes.

Percival slips through the cells, unlocking doors, answering questions about who he and Gwaine are and why they don't need to worry too much about weapons.

He's two-thirds through when the alarm bells sound, and guards start streaming in.

"Just drop them, you can't kill them!" Percival yells, and moments later, the dungeon is a swarming brawl.

xXx

"Do you have any idea where she might have the cup, Merlin?" Arthur asks quietly, wondering how long he'll be able to keep Merlin's secret from his father with Uther tagging along.

"Well, if it was me, I'd have it in the vaults, behind ten layers of locks and enchanted booby traps," Merlin answers. "But this is Morgause, so she probably has it on a pedestal in a room somewhere. Probably one of the towers. Guarded, no doubt, but still a tribute to her boundless hubris."

"Ooo, fancy words, Merlin," Arthur says, chuckling. "And you're probably right. She thinks she's won, that she's infallible."

"I almost feel bad for her," Lancelot adds.

"You've obviously never met Morgause," Merlin tells him.

"And don't forget, she is fearsome with a sword as well as being a sorceress. Right, Arthur?" Leon says, unable to resist.

"Shut up," Arthur snaps.

"What is he talking about?" Lancelot asks Merlin.

"I'll tell you later," Merlin promises.

"Merlin, can you do… _something_ to track it? You told me you can sense magical things, can you, like, hone in on the cup?" Arthur asks quietly.

"I can try," he says. They are in a little-used corridor in the back of the castle, near the kitchens. Merlin closes his eyes.

"Sire, where are you going?" Leon's voice interrupts Merlin's concentration and he opens them to see Uther heading off alone, down the corridor.

"Father!" Arthur hisses after him, "what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm going to find Morgana," Uther calls softly back. "I… I need to talk with her, Arthur. I feel I can bring her back to us if I just talk with her." His face is bleak.

"But…" Arthur starts, but before he can continue, Uther has dashed away, alone. Arthur is about to shout, but Merlin grabs his arm, stopping him.

"Arthur, no! You can't give away our position!" Merlin warns, but Kilgarrah's warning drifts back into his brain. _Her soul has been turned black by her hatred for Uther._ Freya's words immediately follow. _You must do what is necessary, Merlin._ He squeezes his eyes shut, conflicted.

"Merlin?" Arthur prompts.

_Let Uther go. If we send Leon or Lancelot with him, we may lose two men instead of possibly just one. Where are your loyalties, Merlin? Are they to Uther, oppressor of all magical peoples, murderer? Or are they to Arthur, who has accepted your magic and is prepared to reward you for your service and loyalty? Arthur, who is destined to restore magic to Camelot? Arthur, who has already proved himself a better ruler than Uther ever has been?_

_Silly question._

"This way," Merlin opens his eyes and leads the way, heading for a stairwell.

As they walk along, Merlin's steps become more purposeful, and Arthur puzzles at him, as he notices Merlin's eyes are closed as he walks.

"Merlin!" he calls out suddenly. Guards have appeared and the alarm bells are sounding.

Arthur steps in front of Merlin, brandishing Excalibur, trying not to grin. The guards eye him with smug disdain.

 _Poor, ignorant fools,_ Arthur thinks.

 _I hope this thing works._ He raises the sword and attacks the first guard, who battles back adeptly, but he is no match for Arthur's skills, and soon enough, Arthur makes contact with Excalibur, thrusting deep into the man's belly, and he explodes in a shower of golden sparks.

Everyone jumps in surprise. Especially the other guards, who look at one another, suddenly petrified, pausing in their battles with Lancelot and Leon. Merlin has already knocked out two others with a flick of his wrist and a flash of his eyes.

"Whoa," Arthur says, and finally he allows the grin to spread across his face.

It is the single scariest thing Merlin has ever seen. And that's saying something. Arthur roars and attacks, dispatching the remaining guards with an almost elementary simplicity.

"Thank you, Freya," Arthur says to the air, figuring she can probably hear him.

"Good thing Uther left, actually," Lancelot mutters as they press onward, following Merlin and Arthur.

Higher and higher they climb, dropping guards left and right, either by Merlin's magic or Excalibur, and eventually they stop down the corridor from a room with four armed guards standing outside.

"Told you," Merlin says, almost laughing.

xXx

"Gwen, where are you going?" Gaius asks. She was nearly to the edge of the camp already.

"I'm getting more water. We'll need lots for any wounded," she says.

"You're not to go alone," Gaius warns, stepping over to join her.

"What about Geoffrey?" Gwen asks, indicating the other man seated by the fire. To his credit, he looks extraordinarily bored.

"I'll be fine. No one is interested in me anyway," he chuckles. "Just don't be too long."

"You're sure?" she asks.

"Yes, go on," he waves. "I wish I had a book…" he mutters as they disappear.

As Gaius and Gwen pick their way down the increasingly-apparent path to the stream, Gaius finally asks.

"So Gwen, how long have you known, exactly?"

"About what?" she asks. _About Merlin?_ she wonders.

"About being with child, dear."

"Oh, that. I thought you were asking about Merlin," she laughs. "About a month. It must have happened fairly quickly…" she trails off, blushing.

"I would say," Gaius agrees.

"Um, Arthur and I were married the day after we fled Camelot, just so you know," she clarifies, not wanting Gaius to think that the child had been conceived illegitimately.

"Yes, Merlin told me," Gaius answers.

"Is it that obvious yet?" she asks, furrowing her brow, her hand drifting over her stomach. _Have I gotten bigger still?_

"Well, I am a physician, Guinevere," Gaius laughs. "Plus we all pretty much figured it out when Arthur knelt down and kissed your stomach before he left."

Gwen laughs now, too, and says, "Remind me not to tell him anything I don't want found out by everyone."

They reach the stream and stoop to fill the water skins.

"You are feeling well, then? No illness or dizziness?" Gaius asks, shifting back into physician mode.

"I feel fantastic, actually. Never better. Well, except for the constant worrying about Arthur, of course. And Merlin. And everyone else."

"When things settle back down, you will be seeing the midwife, yes?"

"Yes," Gwen nods, knowing that Gaius wasn't _really_ asking. "I will, Arthur has already insis… what's that sound?" she whispers. There is a strange rustling noise accompanied by an odd squeak off to her left.

"Gwen, it's probably a wounded animal," Gaius warns. "It's best to leave it."

Gwen ignores him and follows the sound. She peeks behind a bush, silent and slow. Gaius watches as her shoulders relax.

"It's just a pup, Gaius," she says, bending and picking up a shaggy grey dog, large but not yet full-grown, with long legs and ears and feet he has yet to grow into. "He's got an injured paw."

Gaius almost laughs at the sight of her, hefting this oversized puppy in her arms. He is an armload for her, his long legs dangling. He lifts his head and licks her chin and she giggles.

"Let me see," he says, allowing himself to laugh now. Gwen sits on the fallen tree, cuddling the dog in her lap while Gaius looks at his foot. "Oh, this isn't anything major," he declares, "just a cut. It's dirty and… _somewhat_ deep, but it will heal. Here, hold his paw out."

Gwen does, and he pours some of the water they've just gathered onto the wound. The dog whines, but Gwen shushes him and holds him close, letting him know that he is safe.

"This isn't a cut," Gaius frowns, "this pup was shackled. Who would do that?"

"I think I can guess," Gwen says, rubbing the dog under his chin. He lifts his head and makes a soft grunting noise. The canine equivalent of a purr.

"I know one of Uther's hunting dogs had a litter a few months ago. I'll bet this is one of them. Looks like he's big enough to have been weaned already, thankfully."

"Let's take him back and bandage that paw," Gwen declares, standing again. Gaius goes and refills his water skin.

"Is he heavy? I don't know that I like you carrying him, Gwen."

"He's fine, Gaius. I don't want his injury to get any dirtier by having him limp along the forest floor."

Gaius knows there is no winning this argument, so he says nothing.

Back at camp, Geoffrey startles at the sight of Gwen carrying a dog with her, but somehow it doesn't surprise him, as he knows she is a nurturing sort, remembering her tendency to leave kitchen scraps for strays behind the castle.

Between them they clean and dress the dog's wounded foot, give him some water to drink and some bites of leftover meat from the previous night's dinner. Gwen arranges her red wool blanket into sort of a little nest for the dog, patting it with her hand to call him over. He limps over to it, sniffs it, turns around three times in place, then lays down, curling into a ball, nose to tail.

"I'm keeping him."

"Of course you are," Gaius chuckles.

"I know he's a hunting dog by nature, but I should like to keep him. He can be my protector," she nods, satisfied with herself. Then she crouches down beside the dog and says, "Would you like that, Smith? Would you like to stay with me?"

He lifts his head again and licks her nose. She kisses the top of his head and he drops it back down, falling immediately into the kind of exhausted sleep that only dogs get to experience.

"Smith?" Gaius asks.

"I thought of it on the way back. For my father."

The alarm bells sound, and Gwen's head snaps up, looking in the direction of the castle, her face wide-eyed and suddenly very worried.


	11. Chapter 11

"Bors!" Elyan shouts, fighting his way through the fray. A guard descends on him, and Elyan manages to drop him with a well-placed punch.

He had just caught a glimpse of Sir Bors, locked in a struggle with a guard nearly as large as Percival, and he thought he saw a flash of a blade just before Bors fell.

Elyan reaches him, and turns him on his back only to find his chainmail tattered and a large gash in his abdomen.

"Oh, no," Elyan says, and drags him back into an alcove, away from the fighting. He shakes his shoulder lightly. "Bors… Bors!"

Bors groans slightly, weakly. He looks waxy and pale, as if all the color has left his face.

"Hang on, Bors, we'll get you to Gaius. He'll fix you up and you'll be fine," Elyan says, but he knows it is a lie.

"No," Bors gasps, then coughs. A drop of blood appears at the corner of his mouth.

 _That's not good,_ Elyan thinks.

"I'm done, Elyan. It's all right. I'm proud to have died fighting for Camelot. For what is right… for Arthur…" his voice is fading now. "For…" he trails off, and his breath leaves him in a soft wheeze. He goes limp in Elyan's arms.

"For us," Elyan finishes Bors' final words, closing his fallen comrade's eyes. He lays him down in the alcove, out of the way of the fighting, and covers him with his own cape, promising to come back for him when this is over.

"Elyan!" Gwaine calls to him when Elyan emerges. "Where have you been?" he asks, punching a guard with the butt of his sword.

"Bors," Elyan says, his face grim. "He's…" He glances over his shoulder.

"Oh," Gwaine says sadly, looking over at the limp hand he sees sticking out from beneath a red cape.

Elyan lunges, punching out a guard just about to attack Gwaine. At the same time, Gwaine, reaches forward and strikes another guard behind Elyan.

"Thanks," they both say, then make their way quickly through the cells, looking for Percival. They see him a few yards ahead, a guard in each hand. He brings the two guards' heads together, knocking them out with each other's skulls.

xXx

"We need to get in there," Merlin says. "Arthur," he prompts, seeing Arthur looking behind him, clearly worried about his father.

"Hmm?" Arthur turns and looks back.

"Arthur," Lancelot says, placing his hand on his elbow. "Go after him. We've got this."

"No, I'll stay. You need my sword," Arthur answers, but he is clearly conflicted.

"No, we don't. We've got Merlin," Leon answers, surprising everyone. "Go. Help the king."

"Um…" Arthur still hesitates.

" _Go,_ Arthur. We'll be fine. Uther needs more help than we do."

Arthur claps Merlin on the shoulder, then Lancelot. He clasps Leon's forearm briefly, then takes off, running fearlessly down the corridor, Excalibur flashing as he goes. Surrounded by a constant shower of golden sparks, he looks almost supernatural, unworldly.

"Wow," Leon says. "I wish I had a sword like that."

"Yes, Leon, we know," Merlin teases.

"So what's the plan?" Lancelot asks.

"Take out the outer guards, get inside, spill the cup," Merlin shrugs.

"Child's play," Lancelot rolls his eyes.

"Morgause may have some tricks up her sleeve, so we'll have to be wary," Merlin adds, glancing at the four guards. "But we won't know until we dive in."

Merlin turns towards the door, emerging from their hiding place. The guards see him approaching, but they are not fast enough. Merlin thrusts both hands forward and the front two guards are forced backward, into the two behind them. The two in back drop, but the front two are still conscious. And mad.

They charge Merlin. Just as Leon and Lancelot come forward to aid, Merlin lifts his chin and flicks a hand at the guards, and they drop on the spot.

"What did you do?" Leon asks.

"Same thing I've been doing all along," Merlin shrugs. "I should have been keeping count of how many people I've put to sleep," he adds, muttering under his breath.

"Door's locked," Lancelot declares.

"Of course it is," Merlin says. He extends his hand to the lock and says a word. Nothing. "Tricky bitch," he mumbles, and tries a different spell. Still nothing.

"Where's Percival when we need him, eh?" Leon chuckles nervously, keeping an eye out for other guards.

"I've got one more," Merlin says. "Stand back."

They do.

 _I wish I had my staff,_ Merlin thinks, knowing it is still stashed under the floorboards of his room in Gaius' quarters. He couldn't bring it along when they fled; it is too big and would have drawn too much attention.

He lifts his hands and closes his eyes. When he opens them, they are flame-gold and, with a word, he blasts the doors completely from their hinges.

"Well, that will probably attract some attention," Lancelot comments dryly once the dust settles.

"Nothing for it, mate," Merlin says, shrugging as he strides fearlessly into the room, finding twelve more guards who are suddenly very alert.

Twelve more guards and Morgause.

"You!" she spits. "You are no servant!"

"That's where you're wrong, Morgause," Merlin says. "I am a servant. I serve Arthur. And Camelot. It is my destiny to see that they are kept safe."

"Does that include protecting Uther as well?" she arches her eyebrow at him.

"My duty is to Arthur," Merlin answers carefully, stepping closer. He spies the cup on a pedestal at the back of the room and he almost laughs.

"What is funny, servant?" Morgause tilts her head at him, perplexed by his slightly amused expression.

"You are, Morgause," Merlin says. "Your arrogance is amusing."

"Let's see how _amusing_ you find this, then," she says, raising her hands and chanting.

Merlin is prepared and deflects the curse with a word of his own, knocking one of the guards into the wall.

The other guards step forward, hands at hilts, but Morgause holds her hand up, stilling them. Merlin realizes that Lancelot and Leon are flanking him, at either side, slightly behind.

Morgause tries again, but Merlin is faster this time, knocking her backwards before she can summon any magic to loose on him.

"Go," she hisses at the guards, and the remaining eleven guards charge.

Merlin immediately drops four of them. Leon takes out another with his fist. Lancelot crashes the skull of another against a nearby pillar.

Merlin moves steadily forward, shoving one guard into another, sending both into another pillar, his eyes on Morgause as she scrambles to her feet.

_Don't let her leave this room._

Lancelot's eyes fly wide and he looks at Leon. The look on the other knight's face tells him that he heard it, too. Merlin's voice. Inside their heads.

"Merlin," Lancelot calls, his voice a question.

"I don't exactly know how I just did that," Merlin calls back.

"Got it," Lancelot answers. Then he makes a decision. He takes out another guard, but earns a cut on his forearm for his efforts. He makes his way around the room, his eyes trained on Morgause, watching her. Learning.

"Servant," Morgause spits, "You are no match for my powers." However, her eyes aren't sure. She really has no idea about what kind of power this young man possesses.

Merlin knows this, and keeps quiet. Then a thought occurs to him, and he stops walking. It is a ridiculously simple thought, almost laughable. _How stupid am I?_ he thinks, realizing that Arthur may be right occasionally.

_Let's not overthink this, Merlin._

He shifts his gaze from Morgause to the cup. " _Ágéotan_ ," he mutters, and his eyes flash.

"No!" Morgause shrieks, but it is too late. She whirls around to see the cup on its side, the viscous red blood dripping down the pedestal, thick and sticky. The cup rolls and topples to the floor with a metallic clatter.

The guards explode in the now-familiar shower of golden sparks.

xXx

Uther fights his way to the throne room, determined to find Morgana, to try to bring her back to him. He is surprisingly swift and cunning, slipping through the throng, making his progress. He takes a few minor blows, but nothing severe enough to stop him.

He limps into the throne room, sword drawn.

"Hello, _Father,_ " Morgana's cold voice greets him, spitting his name like a curse.

"Morgana," Uther says, his voice shaky with exertion and emotion. "Please…"

"Begging for your life already? Excellent, this should be over quickly, then," she goads him.

"Please come back to us, Morgana," he says, setting his sword on the floor now, walking slowly forward. "I lay down my sword. I only wish to talk with you."

"Oh, well, _I_ wish to stay on this throne, and for that to happen, _you_ need to be dead."

"What happened, Morgana? Why do you do this? I raised you as my own daughter. You _are_ my own daughter. Why do you hate me so? Did I not give you everything you desired?"

"It is not what you did to me, but what you have done to my kind," she snaps.

"Your kind? I do not understand."

"Always so blind," she huffs, standing finally. "Surely you know that I have magic."

"That is what they are saying, but I couldn't believe…"

"Couldn't or wouldn't? You always only ever believed what you wanted, Uther. I have magic. Daughter or no, by the laws of Camelot, I should be executed. Would you execute your own daughter?" she asks, angling her head at him.

"It can't be…" he gasps, eyes wide. "How…?"

"Answer my question, old man. Would you execute your own daughter? Or would you merely banish me from the kingdom and execute anyone who uttered my name?"

"So all this… this is just because of the ban on magic?" he asks.

"No. It is because you exterminated people like they were vermin. People who were special, not evil."

"Magic was being abused," he says defensively.

"Well, now those of us with magic are going to be doing the abusing. Retribution is at hand," she says coolly.

"I couldn't let the chaos continue… I had to do something…" he stammers quietly.

"You did not have to kill everyone just because of your own guilt!" she yells, cutting him to the quick. "Oh, yes, I know _all_ about what you did to get your _precious_ Arthur. Your beloved son who turned his back on you anyway." She laughs now. "What a fantastic father you turned out to be. One child a witch and the other runs off with a whore servant."

Uther blinks, not only hurt and angry, but also surprised to find that he feels a little anger at Morgana's referring to Gwen as a whore.

"Please, Morgana, I'm… I'm so sorry. I don't care that you have magic. I will change the law, make magic legal again. Heavily regulated, but legal. Just… come back to me. I cannot bear this," Uther begs.

"You will change the law?" Morgana asks, softening. "You would do that… for me?" she walks toward him now, tears in her eyes.

"Yes, Morgana, please," Uther says, holding his arms out tentatively to her. "Please," he repeats.

"Oh, Father," she sighs, falling into his arms, leaning her head on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around her.

It was then that Uther felt the sharp sting of her dagger as it sank into his side.

"Too little, too late, I'm afraid," she whispers into his ear, pulling back, out of his arms, as he slumps to the floor.

Morgana straightens her back imperiously, smirking down at Uther's fallen body, just as Arthur reaches the throne room.

"Father!" he yells, running in, sword raised. Morgana holds out her hand and chants, pushing him back, into the wall.

She flees the room through a back exit before Arthur can regain his breath and his feet.

Arthur rushes to his father's side, lifting his body, turning him over, taking his head in his lap.

"Father," he says, his voice shaky. "Please, please."

"Arthur," Uther says, blinking his eyes open, only just.

"You're going to be fine, Father, I'll… I'll take you to Gaius and Guinevere, they'll fix you right up," Arthur says, but he knows he is lying, both to himself and to his father.

"No, Arthur… It's my time," Uther gasps, his breathing shallow, leaving him.

"No, Father…" Arthur says, tears falling freely now.

"Tell your wife… tell Guinevere I am sorry."

"I will, Father… thank you." He sniffles, clutching his father's hand.

"You will be… a great king, my son."

"I'm not ready, Father. I still need you."

"No, you don't. You have been… ready… for some time now. Just don't… don't repeat my mistakes… as a king… and as a… father…"

Arthur drops his head, resting his forehead against his father's. It is like ice.

"I was always… proud of… you… and… I love you…"

The sounds of fighting outside cease suddenly. The silence is deafening, but Arthur does not hear it.

xXx

"…The hell?" Gwaine staggers, his punch connecting suddenly with the air, and he almost falls against another knight.

"He did it!" Elyan exclaims. "Merlin! He did it!"

"Merlin?" the knight that Gwaine almost toppled into asks. "What can he do? He's just a servant."

"Oh, no, mate, he is so much more than that," Elyan says. "But come. Let's start getting the wounded back to camp to Gaius and Gwen."

"Right. I wonder if Morgause and Morgana are still lurking about?" Gwaine asks.

"I don't know. But without their army, they are vulnerable. Magic or no," Percival says, hoisting an injured knight to his feet.

"Whoa, and I thought I was big," the knight mutters. "Are you a knight?"

"Yep," Percival says proudly. "Sir Percival. That's Sir Gwaine, and I believe you know Sir Elyan."

" _Sir_ Elyan? The blacksmith, a knight?"

"Is that a problem?" Percival asks, suddenly not supporting the knight as steadily.

"No! No, no."

"Arthur knighted the three of us and one other," Gwaine explains as they start to move, collecting other wounded as they go.

"But the blacksmith is a commoner. No offense intended, Elyan, you know I think your work is excellent."

"I'm a commoner," Percival adds. "So is Gwaine and Sir Lancelot, who is working elsewhere to liberate Camelot from Morgause and Morgana's reign of terror," he adds pointedly.

"Oh," the knight says dumbly.

"And Arthur married my sister," Elyan adds, just to stir the pot further.

"What? So the rumors really are true? Prince Arthur ran off and eloped with Lady Morgana's maid?"

"Yes. And Sir Leon has already sworn to protect her with his life, so if you value yours, you will follow suit," Gwaine adds.

"Sir Leon? He's back? And he's sworn loyalty to Gwen?"

"Prince Arthur will thank you to address her as Lady Guinevere," Elyan corrects him.

"Yes," Gwaine explains. He looks around and realizes that all the knights are listening intently. He stops, and holds his hand up, stopping everyone. "Look, lads. Arthur is back. You know this; you saw him. He married Gwen, yes. Lady Guinevere. He's knighted four commoners. These are all good things. And also things King Uther would never do, am I correct?"

There is a general rumbling of agreement.

"These are the actions of a man with vision. Portents of things to come under Arthur's rule," Gwaine continues. "Now, me, I hate nobles. Yet here I stand, fighting for a _prince_ as a Knight of bloody Camelot."

"I remember you! You saved Prince Arthur's life and Uther still banished you!" a voice pipes up.

"Indeed. And again: here I stand, among you. One of you."

"You were amazing with a sword!"

"Thank you. Now, are you all sufficiently over your shock and ready to bring this kingdom to glory? Well, either that or go get patched up by Gaius and your future queen?"

Cheering ensues, the sound echoing through the dungeon.

"All right, then. Let's go."

"I have to admit, Gwaine," Percival grins, "you definitely have a way with words."

"You should hear me with the ladies."

xXx

Morgause shrieks, furious, wheeling on Merlin. "How? You…"

Merlin nods, his outer calm unnerving her. Lancelot and Leon circle slowly, still on high alert. They know she is a witch and Leon has seen her in action with a sword. Despite Merlin's considerable skills, they are taking no chances.

Quick as a flash, she draws a sword from a sheath hidden in her skirts and holds the tip against Merlin's throat.

"No matter what you do, I will still have time to thrust this into your throat," Morgause threatens.

"So be it," Merlin says, not moving, still calm. "You'll still be dead regardless."

"Oh, so selfless," she says sweetly. "Your master must be _so_ proud of you, Servant," she spits.

"My master has only a fraction of an idea about what I can do," Merlin says, "and it is still more than you know about my skills, Morgause."

Her grip on her sword wavers for just a moment, and she blinks. "No," she gasps, "you couldn't be him."

"Oh?"

 _Him who?_ Lancelot wonders, creeping silently up behind Morgause now.

"It has been foretold that a great wizard will rise and restore magic to Camelot," Morgause says, her sword dropping lower still as she struggles with her realization.

"Indeed," Merlin says levelly.

Leon lunges suddenly, seeing an opening. Morgause sends him against the wall, hardly looking at him, and he slumps, unconscious.

"Fool," Morgause snaps. "You cannot be this wizard," she decides finally. "You cannot be Emrys."

"As you wish, my lady," Merlin nods. Then his eyes flash and her sword is dashed from her hand. She gasps in surprise, and prepares another curse to fling his way.

Merlin deflects it again, blasting a hole in the wall this time.

"You are not him!" she screams. "You are a servant, a nobody! You cannot be the greatest wizard in the land!"

"If you insist," Merlin answers, stepping forward now. He sees Lancelot move now, coming up behind Morgause. She senses him just before he grabs her shoulders, and spins on him, pulling out a hidden dagger.

Lancelot is faster, slicing her belly with his sword. She gasps, but before she falls, she buries the dagger into his chest.

"Ah!" Lancelot hisses, grabbing at the dagger's handle as it slips from her grasp when she slides to the floor.

The dagger is buried in the left side of his chest, but her aim was wide, piecing a relatively harmless area near his shoulder.

He is just about to pull it free when an ear-piercing scream invades their ears.

xXx

"Elyan!" Gwen exclaims when her brother, Gwaine, Percival and a collection of wounded knights return to camp.

Elyan runs to her, but he is stopped by a large grey dog that has placed himself between Gwen and her brother.

"Smith," Gwen says softly, "it's all right, boy. This is my brother." Smith stops growling and moves beside Gwen, wagging his tail and gazing expectantly up at her.

"A dog, Gwen?" Elyan asks. "We're in the middle of a war and you find a _dog?_ "

"Yes. And he's still a puppy, actually," she says, scratching the dog behind his ears.

"He's going to get bigger?"

"Yes, and apparently he is taking his job very seriously. Aren't you, boy?" She coos this last bit at Smith, whose tail wags even harder now, whacking Gwen on the leg with it.

"You're all right?" she asks, going to hug her brother now.

"Yes, I'm a little bruised, but I'll live," he says. "Bors… Bors is gone."

"Oh no!" Gwen gasps now, her hands to her face.

"We'll have to go back and get him. And a few others…"

"Gwen, I need your help here, please," Gaius calls.

"Yes, of course, sorry," she calls, squeezing her brother's arm before hurrying back to Gaius.

"Any word on Arthur?" Gwen asks Gwaine as she cleans a wound on his arm.

"Well, the cup has been spilled, we know that much," he says. "Morgause's army all disappeared – poof – in a shower of sparks."

"It took us all quite by surprise," Percival says, sitting heavily beside them, unscathed.

"But we don't know anything else from Arthur's party," Gwaine finishes.

"Elyan and I will go back and check it out," Percival volunteers, standing again. "We're both okay. Elyan, come on."

"What? We're going back?"

"Yeah, we need to find out about the others for Lady Guinevere. She is worried about her husband," Percival says, winking at Gwen.

"Thank you," she says quietly, turning to the large man that Percival had been dragging with him.

"My lady," the knight carefully says as she bends over his injured leg, assessing the damage.

"Sir Bedivere," she says. _Knights are worse than a group of washerwomen for gossip,_ she thinks, noting that the other knights are all glancing at her with a curiosity that they never displayed before, muttering to each other, and, if caught, nodding respectfully in her direction.

"Cat out of the bag, Gwaine?" she asks, peering at him.

"One cat, Princess," Gwaine answers with a grin.

 _So they know we're married, but not about the baby,_ she decides, nodding at him.

"There are more cats?" Bedivere asks, but then Gwen prods his wound a little less than delicately and he grunts.

"Oh, I am sorry, my lord," she says, effectively stopping any further curiosity for now.


	12. Chapter 12

"Morgana," Merlin says quietly, looking at Lancelot. "Come here," he says, and Lancelot steps over.

Without warning, Merlin pulls the dagger from his friend's chest and tosses it to the floor.

"Ow!" Lancelot exclaims, uncharacteristically loud.

Merlin places his hand over the wound and, with a few words, heals and closes it. Lancelot feels a pleasant warm sensation spreading throughout his body, starting at his shoulder.

"Thank you," he says.

Leon is stirring, staggering to his feet, blinking in surprise when he sees Morgause lying in a pool of her own blood in the center of the room.

"What…" he starts. "Who is screaming?"

"Morgana," Merlin repeats. "Go. Both of you. Get back to camp. Now," he orders. "You don't want to be around for this."

"Merlin…" Lancelot protests.

" _Go._ Go find Arthur and Uther; help them if you can!"

Leon and Lancelot look at each other, decide it is hopeless to argue, and then run from the room. Merlin turns toward the door, waiting for Morgana to appear.

Another shriek splits the air, closer now, and a pane of glass in a window cracks.

Morgana comes flying into the room, eyes wide.

"Morgause! Sister…" she sobs, starting forward. "My sister…"

"Morgana," Merlin says softly, and she wheels on him.

"You! You did this! You killed her!"

"I did not kill her, Morgana."

"Ha," she laughs. "Of course you didn't. You are the most useless person I know. I have no idea why Arthur has kept you around this long," she scoffs.

"Morgana, it's over."

"What?"

"It's over. You've lost. It's not too late, Morgana. You can change your ways."

"I cannot change who I am, Merlin," she snaps.

"You may be the one person who can convince Uther to lift the ban on magic, Morgana. If you can convince him that all magic is not evil. Might be a bit more difficult now, considering—"

"Uther's dead," she says coldly, cutting him off.

Merlin pauses a minute, assessing how he feels about this news. _Indifferent. Not surprised at all, really._ "I thought as much," he finally says, his face giving nothing away.

"I am the eldest Pendragon," she declares. "The throne should be mine by right."

"Arthur has been officially declared Uther's heir, Morgana. Not to mention that he is Uther's _legitimate_ heir."

"A legitimate heir born of the very magic Uther outlawed," Morgana hisses, stepping forward.

"The circumstances of Arthur's conception and birth are not the issue here, Morgana, and you know it. Morgause has poisoned your brain with her twisted view of justice. What Uther did was wrong, yes, but what you are doing is no less wrong."

"I am seeking justice and retribution for all people like me, people with magic!" she yells, breaking another window in the process.

"By causing more death and destruction?" Merlin asks. "Two wrongs will not make this right. Death only begets more death. You cannot rule Camelot wielding nothing more than fear. I know how you must be feeling, Morgana—"

"Do not pretend to understand how I feel, Merlin!" she yells. "You have no idea what it is to have to hide who you truly are, to feel persecuted for something over which you have no control!"

Merlin closes his eyes and sighs. It is a heavy, bone-weary sigh, the sigh of a man three times his age. When he opens them, the broken doors behind Morgana suddenly right themselves and swing shut, slamming loudly.

She jumps and turns, staring at the doors. The bolt slides into place now, and a dagger rises from the floor, hovering in midair. Morgana watches, wide-eyed, as the dagger flies across the room and buries itself into the wooden pedestal on which the Cup had been sitting.

She looks at Merlin just in time to see his eyes melt from gold to blue.

"No," she says.

 _Why is that always the reaction?_ Merlin finds himself thinking. _I must have been doing an excellent job of playing the fool._

"Do not tell me that I do not understand, Morgana," Merlin says, his voice barely audible. "Like you, I did not choose my magic. But unlike you, I choose to use my magic to help others instead of hurting them. I have been this way as long as I can remember. If you choose to continue on this path, I guarantee that I will stop you."

"Or you could join me," she says, tentatively holding her hand out to him. "Together, we could…"

"No, Morgana. That is not my destiny. I do not hunger for power. The only thing I wish for is peace. And if that means hiding my secret for the safety of others, then so be it."

_She does not need to know that Arthur knows._

"Merlin…"

"Listen. If you confess your wrongdoings to Arthur, if you promise you will choose the correct path, he likely will be merciful."

Morgana seems to ponder this for a moment. She opens her mouth, then closes it again. She looks at Merlin, searching his familiar bright blue eyes, eyes that she actually found sweet and kind once upon a time. She has never seen him this serious, this… deadly.

 _Deadly._ Her eyes fall on Morgause's crumpled body, and she snaps.

"No! You killed my sister, the only person who truly loved me!"

"Arthur loved you, Morgana. So did Uther. And even Gwen."

"The person they loved is gone, Merlin, don't you see that? She was a weak, silly, superficial thing, thinking of little more than dresses and festivals. A pretty face and an empty mind!"

"That's not true, Morgana. Where is the woman that came to help my village? The woman who was prepared to fight for Ealdor just because of the injustice being done there? Those were not the actions of a weak, silly, superficial woman."

"Yes, they were, don't you see? If I had known… If I had known what _power_ I could wield, those bandits would have run screaming for the hills!"

"That is not how magic is to be used, Morgana."

"And what gives you the authority to decide how magic is to be used, _Merlin?_ "

"No one and nothing," he admits.

Morgana laughs now. "I grow tired of this conversation," she says, picking up Morgause's sword now.

"So you've made your decision, then," Merlin says.

"I wonder what my dear brother would say if he found out you've been using magic under his nose all this time?" she wonders, circling now, sword threatening.

Merlin shrugs, nonplussed.

"You would be hanged right after me," she says, "perhaps even before."

"I doubt it," Merlin answers, stepping forward now, towards her. His answer and his actions puzzle her, and she falters.

"What?" she asks, adjusting her grip on the sword, re-leveling it on him again.

"Look, if you're going to run me through, just do it already," he sighs, taking another step.

"Merlin, you are completely delusional," she says. Her hand is trembling now. "You—whoa!" she slips in the puddle of Morgause's blood, falling to the floor now. When she lands, Merlin hears a strange gurgling noise, and as he rushes forward, he sees why.

Morgana has impaled herself on her own sword.

"I'm sorry, Morgana," Merlin says. Morgana looks up at him, gasping her final breaths. She tries to speak, but nothing comes out except a cough accompanied by a bubble of frothy blood.

"I am truly sorry," Merlin whispers, crouching beside her.

Those are the last words Morgana hears; the last thing she sees is her own pale face reflected back in his bright blue eyes, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Tears for her.

xXx

"Arthur!" Elyan yells, seeing Arthur staggering toward them, his father's limp body in his arms. "What…?"

"Morgana," Arthur manages. Percival rushes forward to relieve Arthur of his burden. He is actually surprised when Arthur allows him to take his father's lifeless body from his arms.

Then he slumps to the floor, on his knees. "She killed him. In cold blood," he whispers.

"She is truly gone to us, then," Elyan says sadly. He knows how much Morgana once meant to Gwen.

"Arthur!" Leon's voice sounds now, and he and Lancelot run to them. "Oh no…"

_I didn't exactly enjoy Uther's rule, but never did I wish for this._

"Where's Merlin?" Arthur looks up now.

"Dealing with Morgana," Lancelot says. "Morgause is dead."

"She is?" Arthur asks.

"By my hand, I'm afraid," Lancelot says, his voice actually remorseful. "And she nearly did me in as well, actually."

"So you left Merlin alone with Morgana? Are you insane?" Arthur asks, standing now.

"We were, um, unconditionally dismissed, Sire," Leon says quietly.

"Of course you were," Arthur says darkly. He sighs. _Head back in it, man. Grieve later._ "Sir Leon, please show Sir Percival where to place the king's body. I'm going to find Merlin."

"We'll come, too," Lancelot and Elyan step forward.

"No. I would like you two to do a sweep of the castle. Gather any wounded and take them to the great hall. Percival, once you've placed the king, go back to camp and escort the others back here. Gaius will be able to tend the wounded much better here than in the woods. Leon, stay with my father."

"Yes, Sire," they all say.

"And Lady Guinevere?" Percival asks.

"She is to stay in the hall to assist Gaius. I'll join them when I can."

Percival nods and follows Leon down to where Uther's body is to be laid. Arthur jogs away in the direction of the tower while Lancelot and Elyan start on their check of the castle.

Arthur meets Merlin just outside the tower room.

"Merlin!" Arthur yells and runs toward him. "Where… where's Morgana?"

Merlin glances back at the closed doors. His face is grim, and the Cup is dangling from his hand. "She's gone. Dead."

"You killed her?" Arthur is incredulous. He had been hoping, like his father, that she could yet be saved.

"Not exactly. She, um, slipped in Morgause's blood and fell on her own sword. Well, Morgause's sword. She had been holding it to my chest just moments before."

Arthur opens his mouth and closes it. He doesn't know what to say. _Merlin stood up to Morgana. And Morgause. And defeated them both._ "Can I see her?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Arthur."

"Please, she was my sister."

Merlin sighs and puts his hand on the door. "The Morgana you knew was gone, Arthur. Please remember that. The kind girl who used to speak out against injustice had been twisted into a hate-filled woman bent on revenge."

Arthur walks in and finds Morgause and Morgana together in a heap, surrounded by a pool of their blood, Morgana's now mixing with Morgause's.

He stands at the edge of the sticky red puddle, looking down, his face a stone. "They are to be buried outside of Camelot, as is befitting traitors to the crown," he says after a moment.

Arthur turns on his heel and strides from the room. Once outside, he leans against a wall and slides slowly to the floor. Merlin sits beside him.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. About your father," he says.

"Thank you."

"Morgana told me."

"Of course she did," he says dryly, his fingers idly playing with the handle of Excalibur.

"There was no bringing her back," Merlin says after a time.

"There may have been."

"No, Arthur," Merlin says, and Arthur turns and looks at him. "Kilgarrah – the great dragon – he said that she was too far gone. That while I was the light to her darkness, not even… what was it? Not even the sun can turn pitch to silver."

"Does he always talk like that?" Arthur asks.

"Usually he's much more cryptic," Merlin chuckles, and Arthur does a little as well.

"Merlin?"

"Yeah?"

"What did Freya say to you, after you kissed her?"

"She told me that I need to let her go," Merlin says, looking down at the Cup.

"What _exactly_ went on between the two of you?" Arthur asks.

"That is a story for another time," Merlin answers.

"Okay."

"So. You're king now, hey?"

"Apparently so."

"You'll be needing a servant."

"Oh?"

"Yes. As Court Sorcerer, I will not be able to continue my duties as your personal manservant, you know."

"So that's it, then," Arthur chuckles. "That's what you want? Court Sorcerer?"

Merlin nods. "Been giving it some thought."

"I see."

"You'll have to change the law, obviously."

"Obviously."

"And I'll need some new clothes. And my own rooms."

"You _have_ been giving this some thought," Arthur chuckles again.

"So… this is okay, then? I can…?"

"Describe what you have in mind as 'Court Sorcerer.'"

"Um, it's an advisory position. So I'd need to be a Lord or something. Maybe. I really don't care about that. I'd continue to protect you…"  
Arthur snorts.

" _And_ I would take care of anything…" he waves his hands vaguely, "magical that comes along. I would be responsible for identifying any magical threats as well as fostering individuals with magic to ensure that they follow the correct path with it. I could be… a liaison to the Druid peoples, too."

"Lord Merlin…" Arthur tries it out. "I don't know about that one," he says, but he is smirking.

"I only said that bit because of the Council. They're going to have a collective cat over this whole affair anyway, your having knighted commoners and marrying a servant and all, but throw in lifting the ban on magic and they'll likely be ready to throw themselves from the tower. If you go ahead and make me a noble as well, then at least it looks good on parchment, makes it look like I am qualified to be your advisor."

"They are going to be quite perturbed," Arthur says, grinning.

 _He's enjoying this,_ Merlin realizes. "So why not go whole-hog with it, then? You're the king now, or you will officially be tomorrow, and you always talked about making your own rules when that time came, and—"

"Merlin!" Arthur cuts him off, laughing. "All right. You can be Court Sorcerer. If the Council doesn't like my actions, I can always get a new Council, right? The threat alone should make them knuckle under."

"Thank you. And basically, I'll pretty much be doing the things I've been doing for the past five years anyway, except now I'll be able to do them openly," Merlin says, and stands. He holds his hand down to Arthur, who takes it, and Merlin pulls him to his feet.

Merlin makes to release Arthur's hand, but Arthur holds it, grasping it in a firm handshake. "Thank you, Merlin."

"You're welcome."

"Come on, we've got things to do. See how many servants you can find—"

"Right, get this place put back in order. I'll make sure word gets out about your return and Morgana's death and all that, too. What about this?" he holds up the Cup.

"Vault?"

"I'd rather give it back to the Druids," Merlin says. "It belongs to them."

"If you can find one, be my guest. Preferably Odras, if I may have a preference. We owe him so much."

"My thoughts exactly. I'll see what I can do."

xXx

A large grey puppy is standing guard outside the great hall, sitting at attention, blocking the doors. Arthur stops and stares down at it.

"Hello," he says, and the dog's tail starts to thump. "May I pass?"

Much to his surprise, the dog stands and moves aside.

"Thank you," Arthur says, still perplexed, and enters the hall.

"Can someone tell me why there is a dog guarding the do— oof!" Arthur's loud question is interrupted by his wife's body hurtling into his arms, her arms around his neck. Arthur's arms grab her by instinct, lifting her from her feet and he tucks his face into her neck.

"Arthur," she breathes his name, tightening her arms around his neck. "Oh, Arthur. You're alive."  
"For the moment," he croaks, and she loosens her arms, landing back on her feet.

"Sorry," she says, and a moment later his lips are on hers as he leans over her, one arm around her waist, the other in her hair, relishing her sweetness, her goodness, her love.

"Guinevere," he whispers, leaning his forehead on hers, nose to nose. "I…"

"I know, Arthur. They told me what happened, and I am sorry for you. I'm sorry she…" she whispers back, a tear slipping from her eye.

"I know," he reaches up and thumbs her tear away. "He… he told me to tell you he was sorry." A tear slips from Arthur's eye now, and Gwen wipes it away while fresh tears fall from her eyes.

"Thank you," she says. They stand there for a few moments, in each other's arms in the middle of the makeshift infirmary, heedless of the others around them.

They continue wiping each other's tears away until suddenly Gwen giggles at how ridiculous they are, unable to help herself. Then Arthur snorts.

"I love you," Arthur says, lifting his head and pulling her against his chest.

"I love you more," Gwen answers, squeezing him tightly.

"Copycat."

Gwen pulls back gently and looks at her husband. "Are you injured at all?" she asks, stroking his cheek with her hand.

"No. Unfortunately, I have no injuries that need tending by my favorite nurse," he smiles.

She laughs. "It did always seem to work out that way, didn't it? Whenever you were injured, somehow it was I who ended up tending your wounds."

"Don't think that was accidental, Love," he winks, and starts to circulate among the wounded, giving his men encouraging words as they progress.

"Why is there a dog outside?" he asks again, remembering his original question.

"I found him by the stream. He was injured, and Gaius and I fixed him up."

"I did notice the bandage on his foreleg."

"I'm keeping him."

He stops and looks at her. _I know that look. Best not to argue._ "Very well."

"He's already proven that he will protect me. Even though he is not yet full grown. How did you get past him, Arthur?"

"I asked permission," he states, sounding quite reasonable about it. "He wagged his tail when I said hello, so I took it as a good sign."

"I did tell him to be nice to you," she chuckles. "His name is Smith."

"Good name."

"I thought so."

"He's not sleeping in our bed."

"Of course not, Arthur," she laughs.

xXx

"You going to sit out here all night?" Gwen's voice startles Merlin from his seat on the floor outside the king's burial chamber.

"Yes," Merlin says. Gwen joins him on the floor, followed by Smith, who curls up beside her hip. "Gwen…"

"If you're staying, I'm staying. Arthur needs to know he has support right now," she says. "Besides, if you stay here and I go up to bed, you'll make me look bad."

"Oh, is it a competition?" Merlin laughs. "Because if it is, I assure you, you will win. You have an unfair advantage."

Gwen laughs, leaning her head on Merlin's shoulder. "I love you, Merlin," she says suddenly. "I want you to know that. Arthur does, too. In his own… unique way, of course, but he does."

"Thank you, Gwen," Merlin says softly. "I love you, too. In a completely sister-like way, of course."

"Of course," Gwen chuckles, knowing Merlin's completely irrational reason for needing to clarify his statement. _As if I would ever._

"He really needs you, Gwen. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes," she sighs. "He still has some growing to do, doesn't he? And he needs you, too, Merlin."

"I'm not going to be his servant anymore," Merlin says.

Gwen lifts her head. "What? Why? What happened?"

"He's going to appoint me Court Sorcerer."

"Oh," Gwen blinks at him. "That's… quite a controversial move."

"I know. It was my idea. And it means taking on a huge amount of responsibility, too. I'm basically declaring myself Head Wizard of all Camelot, Gwen. Anyone wishing to practice magic will have to answer to me, and if they step out of line, I will have to deal with them."

"Does that mean that Arthur is going to be lifting the ban on magic?" she asks, her voice an awed whisper.

Merlin nods. "I'm going to see to it that your father is pardoned and his name cleared as well."

Gwen clasps his hand in hers. "Thank you, Merlin. You don't know what that means to me."

"I lost my father, too, Gwen, just after I found him. And Uther also persecuted him. So I think I may have some idea."

"I know," she says, laying her head back on his shoulder again.

"You shouldn't be on this stone floor all night, Gwen," Merlin says.

"Shut up, Merlin," she tells him, but there is no ire behind her words.

Merlin just laughs. "You've been around Arthur too much."

They sit in companionable silence for a while, listening to Smith's soft canine snoring. Occasionally he yelps in his sleep and kicks a foot, dreaming.

"Do you want to know if your child is a boy or a girl?" Merlin asks suddenly.

"You know?" Gwen asks, looking up at him.

"I do."

She thinks a moment. "No. I don't want to know. Doesn't seem fair."

"Well, we would tell Arthur."

"I don't mean it that way. I mean why should I have that advantage when no one else gets it?"

"Because you have me. And you're going to be the queen."

"The fact that I'm going to be queen is irrelevant to the issue at hand, Merlin," she says. "You just can't stand keeping it to yourself, can you? It's killing you to keep it a secret, isn't it?" she smirks.

"It's more difficult than hiding my magic for five years, Gwen. I'm very excited."

Gwen laughs. "You are cute. And I want you to be the baby's godfather. No arguments."

"Are you kidding me? There is no way I would argue with that!"

Gwen laughs again. "Arthur might, but I wouldn't worry about that."

"I'm not," Merlin laughs.

"Merlin," Gwen says after another quiet interlude, "tell me about the lake. Elyan said that Arthur knighted him and the other three. Arthur said there was a lady who was… fond… of you. Tell me what happened. I want to know. I wish I had been there…"

xXx

Dawn breaks and Arthur opens the doors to the crypt, stepping out and closing them behind him. He sees Merlin and Gwen seated on the floor outside and stops in his tracks, taken aback by their display of loyalty and love.

"Have you two been here all night?" he asks. Gwen lifts her head from Merlin's shoulder.

"Yes," Merlin answers, standing and reaching his hand down to Gwen to help her up.

"Merlin," Arthur mutters and steps forward and offers both hands to his wife, and she stands, wincing slightly.

"Stiff," she mumbles. Smith rises to his feet as well and stretches.

"Thank you both," he says. "Your friendship and loyalty to me means more than I can express."

"We know, Arthur," Merlin says. "We didn't want you to be alone."

"Thank you," he says. Smith woofs softly at Arthur's knee. "You too, Dog," he says with a chuckle.

"Get used to him, Arthur," Merlin says, rolling his eyes.

Arthur looks down at Gwen. She is watching him with soft brown eyes full of concern. He smiles at her and strokes her cheek once.

"It's a new day," Arthur says. "There is much to be done."

"Coronations and all that, yes?" Merlin says.

"If we must," Arthur answers, tucking Gwen's hand into his arm and starting to walk back up to the upper levels of the castle.

"Merlin, find… ugh… find George and tell him I want a bath. A good hot one. I would imagine Guinevere would like one as well, yes, Love?"

"That would be lovely, yes. But…"

"What is it?"

"Do I have my own chambers? Not that I especially _want_ my own chambers, but…"

"No. No separate chambers. I want you with me. For," he sighs, "for _propriety's_ sake, we'll set up two baths on opposite sides with screens. That should keep the maids from running screaming for the hills." Then he leans over and mutters, "Though the idea of sharing a bath with you is _most_ intriguing."

Gwen blushes, but then she recovers and smiles. "Your chambers are going to feel huge now after the house in Lyonesse. They are as big as the entire house was."

"That's precisely why I don't want you to have your own rooms. Gotten too used to having you in close proximity. I'd miss you too much."

"I doubt very much I'd be spending much time there even if I did have my own room," Gwen giggles.

"I'll… just see about having some baths prepared for both of you, then. And Arthur?"

"What?"

"Surely not George. I'll find someone less _irritating_ for you to try out as a manservant."

"Probably a good idea."

"Maybe Caldwell," Merlin mumbles to himself. "Gwen, any requests for a maidservant?"

"Oh, God, I don't even know. Being waited on when I was a servant here myself…"

"I'll see if I can find someone relatively new, then. That might make it easier."

"Thank you, Merlin," Gwen nods.

"Oh," Merlin interjects again.

"What now?" Arthur asks, losing patience.

"Um… I'd like some new clothes. For my new post, you know. To maybe wear at the coronation this evening."

"Fine," Arthur says, mainly agreeing just to get rid of him.

Gwen smirks, knowing that's precisely why Merlin asked now.

"Thank you, Sire," he grins, exchanges a look with Gwen, and hurries off.

"He's getting pretty impertinent," Arthur grumbles.

"He's earned it, and you know that."

"I am so exhausted, Guinevere," he says, changing the subject.

"You'll have time for a nap. Just don't fall asleep in your bath," she warns. "No one will be bothering you today, not with the coronation."

"I hope you're right. What's this?" Arthur asks, seeing a large shallow basket with a cushion in the bottom of it placed outside the doors to their chambers.

Smith pads over, steps in, turns three times, and lays down in it, effectively answering his question.

"I thought it would be best if he slept _outside_ the room," Gwen says, biting her lip and blushing slightly.

"So you knew already that I wanted shared chambers," Arthur smirks at her.

"I had an inkling, yes. Besides, like I said, even if I had my own, I'd be here all the time anyway."

Arthur opens the door and she enters ahead of him.

"I just got to thinking that if he were inside, he might not… understand some of our… actions, and…" Gwen continues, blushing further.

"You wanted to make sure he wasn't going to jump on the bed and bite my bum," Arthur declares, and Gwen bursts forth laughing.

"Pretty much," she gets out between giggles.

There is a knock at the door. "Come," Arthur calls, and a platoon of servants enter, carrying tubs and water, led by young Caldwell, who, much to Arthur's impressed surprise, seems to have everything in hand, instructing where to place the tubs and screens, seeing to it that the water is the correct temperature, all while not being the least bit irritating.

"My lady," a young girl addresses Gwen, bobbing a curtsey, and Gwen turns.

"Hello," Gwen says. She's never seen this girl before. _Must have been hired after we left._

"My name is Lark. I've been sent to be your maidservant, my lady."

"Thank you," Gwen says. "How long have you been here?" she asks, leading the girl to the appropriate tub.

"Just over a month, my lady. I was hired as a replacement maidservant for the Lady Morgana. Before she disappeared."

Gwen smiles. "So you only worked for her for a short time, then," she says. "Good."

"My lady?" Lark asks, confused, helping Gwen with the simple dress she is wearing.

"Lark, you were my replacement," Gwen chuckles. "I was Lady Morgana's maid for most of my life."

"That was you? Forgive me, my lady, your name was forbidden, so no one spoke it…"

 _My name was forbidden? Uther, you petty… no. Do not think ill of the dead. It brings misfortune._ "Yes," Gwen says simply. "The rumors are true. Prince Arthur did run away with me. But now we're back."

"Just in time, too, if I may say," Lark answers, helping Gwen pin her hair up.

"Gwen?" a voice on the other side of the screen, one Gwen recognizes immediately.

"Yes, Gytha?"

"Oh, sorry, I should call you 'my lady,' shouldn't I?" the older woman says, her voice an embarrassed giggle.

"I suppose, but I do not mind if you call me Gwen. Do you need something?"

"The seamstresses will be coming up within the hour to fit you for your coronation dress."

 _Coronation dress? Well, obviously I don't own anything fine enough,_ she sighs. "Thank you," she simply calls back.

"And the midwife is coming later as well," Arthur's voice floats across the room to her. "I've had Gaius find a suitable candidate to be the royal midwife."

 _No nap for me, I see._ "Um, thank you?" Gwen calls back amidst poorly-hidden gasps from the servants still in the room.

"Guinevere," he warns.

"I know, Arthur, you just want reassurance. But you've also just told everyone in this room that I am with child, you realize."

"Oh. Oops. Um," he pauses, then his tone changes. "The information you've all just heard is confidential. We will make a formal announcement when the time is right, but until then, it doesn't leave this room."

A chorus of "Yes, my lords" echo through the room as Gwen sinks into the hot water, scented with lavender.

"Gytha, please make certain that Gaius and the midwife are discreet as well, please. Since they weren't present for the king's _proclamation,_ " Gwen says.

"Hey!" she hears Arthur protest across the room, and she giggles.

"Yes, my lady," Gytha answers just before Gwen hears her scuttle out.


	13. Chapter 13

"Long live the king! Long live the king! Long live the king!"

The voices ring out through the throne room, cheering their freshly-minted young sovereign, looking absolutely resplendent in his dress armor and best cape, Excalibur at his hip, crown on his noble brow.

 _He looks petrified,_ Gwen thinks. She knows that she and Merlin are the only ones who see the overwhelmed boy behind the charismatic leader, the fear just the tiniest glint in his eyes. _The others will undoubtedly mistake it for grief over his father. That is there, too, but being crowned king so young daunts him. Worried about the sweeping changes he is about to make._

Arthur holds up his hands, calling for silence again. He nods at Gwen, who is standing in the front, next to Elyan. She steps out and walks forward the short distance, her heart thumping in her chest.

 _Now I know why he looked petrified. This is completely terrifying,_ she thinks, reaching the cushion on the step and kneeling gracefully. She lifts her head and peeks up at Arthur, to find him gazing lovingly down at her, all the fear erased from his face.

 _He really needs you._ Merlin's words drift back into her consciousness, and she realizes that Arthur draws his strength from her presence. _He's said it both directly and indirectly, but I never fully realized it until this moment._

"By the sacred laws vested in me, I name you, Guinevere, Queen of Camelot," Arthur declares, his smooth, confident voice reverberating through the hall.

Gwen feels the weight of the crown as Arthur places it on her head, feels the cool metal where it rests on her forehead, and her first thought as queen is _This thing is uncomfortable. I hope I won't have to wear it often._

Arthur extends his hands to her in much the same way he did that morning outside the crypt, and she takes them, standing and facing him.

_He's not going to kiss me, is he? He looks like he's going to. That's the look he gets on his face when… okay, then, if that's how we're doing this._

Arthur's lips touch hers, softly, seemingly chaste. Gwen can feel him battling with himself to not pull her flush against him and deepen the kiss. When she feels his sneaky clever tongue slip forward and flick lightly at her upper lip, she gently pulls away before he loses that battle.

She smiles at him, a smile that melts his heart and heats his blood and he releases one hand, turning her to face her subjects for the first time.

 _Subjects,_ Gwen thinks. _These are my friends._

"Long live the Queen!" Arthur declares, and the room echoes him.

"Long live the Queen!" The pride in Elyan's face almost makes her cry.

"Long live the Queen!" Merlin is beaming. So is Leon.

"Long live the Queen!" Gaius looks like a proud grandfather.

"Long live the Queen!" Gwaine catches her looking and he winks at her. She almost falls to giggling.

The cheering subsides with Arthur's raised hands again, and he declares, "The coronation feast will commence at sundown."

Arthur takes Gwen's hand in his, and the couple walks up the center aisle, nodding and smiling at their subjects, who bow and curtsey as they pass.

Guinevere cannot help but notice that there are a few faces bearing what appear to be less-than-approving looks, aimed squarely in her direction. She pretends not to notice them, holding her head high and her face serene, bearing befitting a queen.

They exit the throne room and stop in the corridor. Alone. Arthur looks down at her and smiles, leaning down to kiss her once more.

She yawns in the middle of it, and they both start laughing.

"You got a nap," she reminds him, "I didn't." They start walking to their chambers, where Gwen is hoping to catch maybe a small rest before the banquet. "I was busy being fitted, re-fitted, poked and prodded by the midwife, fitted again, and then thoroughly primped and polished for this coronation."

"Well, you look beautiful, so it was worth it, at least for me. And I did not rest as well as you may have thought, Love," he says.

"Arthur, you were snoring."

"I do not snore!"

"You're still arguing this? We've been married long enough now, so you can trust my word on this: you snore."

"Ailith thought it was very sweet," Gwen chuckles.

"Who is Ailith?"

"The midwife. Now officially the Royal Midwife. She just found it charming that the king snores."

"Lovely."

"Well, kings aren't supposed to do something so common as snoring, you know. So she actually was impressed, in a strange way."

"What, because it means I'm human?"

"Essentially, yes. Makes you relatable."

"Oh," he says, sounding pleased now.

They walk in silence a for a bit now, and Arthur starts feeling tension radiating from his wife.

"What's troubling you, my queen?" he asks softly, reaching over to place his fingers over the small hand tucked into his elbow.

She smiles a little at being addressed as such by him, and looks down. "Just… some uneasiness, I guess. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Guinevere, tell me," he says, stopping on the stairs and stepping down one step to bring her face level with his. "Why are you uneasy?"

"I'm… nervous about the feast tonight. There were a few disapproving looks from some of the courtiers as we were walking out of the throne room," she admits, looking to the side. The late afternoon sun shining through the stained-glass windows casts her face in a soft rosy glow.

"Ignorance, jealousy and pride," he sighs, reaching up to caress her cheek. "Three things we have to learn how to deal with, sadly. But don't worry. You brought my father around, you'll win over the Lords as well."

"It's not the Lords I'm worried about," she says, frowning. "It's the Ladies. _They_ were the ones giving me the stink-eye as I walked out with you."

"Stink-eye?" Arthur repeats, slightly amused. "I don't believe I've ever heard that phrase before."

"Something my mother used to say. Usually referring to judgmental old nobility with nothing better to do than sit around looking down their noses at everyone else. Almost always female."

"Seems appropriate. So the Ladies of the court are your trouble?" he asks, seeming genuinely perplexed by this.

"Arthur, do you really know so little about women?" she asks, but she knows the answer. _Too much time on the training field combined with no mother. Of course he knows nothing about women._ "The Lords may be the ones outwardly making the laws and moving the pieces around the game board, but whom do you think it is _telling_ them what to do and how to vote?"

He looks fascinated now, so she continues, placing her hands on his shoulders, occasionally brushing her thumbs on his neck.

"Well, at least the married ones," she shrugs. "Did you not ever notice that the unmarried Lords seem much more decisive, more ready to jump into the fray than their married counterparts? That the husbands always delay decision making till the next meeting?"

"Now that you mention it…"

"It's so they can go home and discuss with their wives what to do. Or, in some cases, tell their wives what's going on and then have them tell them what to do. Sometimes it is an even-handed discussion…"

"Which is what I hope you and I have," he interjects.

"Yes. But sometimes it is the Lady of the house who is truly making the decisions. Especially if the Lord is old and his wife is young."

"How do you know all this?"

"Remember what I said to your father about keeping my eyes and ears open and my mouth closed?"

He nods.

"Well, mouth's open now," she says, leaning forward to kiss him once before turning and continuing up the stairs.

"Hey! Your mouth wasn't open just then," he teases, following after her, taking every other step to catch up.

"Not what I meant and you know it, my king," she answers, taking his arm again. "Look. I'm just nervous about the Ladies of the court spurning my friendship, or worse, spreading rumors."

"You're nervous about rumors?"

"They can do the most damage, true or not."

"Well, you do have one point in your favor as queen already, Guinevere," he says.

"What's that?"

"You're carrying my heir already. So that's one thing they can't gossip about."

"Well, they _could_ gossip about whether the child was conceived in wedlock or not, since we married elsewhere, and no one knew about it apart from Merlin. And since I conceived almost immediately after we were married…"

"Guinevere," he says, opening the doors to their chambers and ushering her inside, "you are beginning to sound ridiculous. The midwife will be able to confirm everything, and we have parchments to prove when we were married. Now lie down and rest."

He guides her to the bed and gently pushes her shoulders so she sits. Then he takes the crown from her head and bends to remove her shoes. She obediently lies down on top of the covers.

"Will you rest with me?" she asks, her eyes closed already.

"I have some things to look over, sorry," he says, kissing her forehead. "I'll just be right over here, though," he says, pointing to his desk.

"Okay," she mumbles, drifting already.

xXx

"I see what you mean by 'stink-eye,'" Arthur whispers into Gwen's ear at the feast. Only ten minutes in, food not even on plates yet, and he's already seeing signs of discontent among some of the Ladies of the court. _Most interesting is that it is chiefly among the younger ones. Jealous, ladies?_ he thinks smugly.

"The worst part is I'm not sure what I can do about it," Gwen whispers back, smiling as if they are carrying on a pleasant conversation.

"Just be yourself, Love. It's been working for you so far," he says, but then movement at the entrance to the hall catches his eye and he turns his head, looking curiously, wondering who the late arrival is along with nearly everyone else.

A tall, beautiful older woman strides in, the air of nobility thick around her. She might even be mistaken for a queen herself, actually. Her auburn curls are secured and veiled, and she looks resplendent in a dress of soft pine green.

Amidst surprised murmurings, Gwen leans over and prods Leon in the shoulder. "Sir Leon," she says softly, and he turns. She nods towards the door, and Leon nearly leaps to his feet, striding over on his long legs.

"Lady Amelia," Arthur mutters, a shocked whisper.

Fully aware he is being watched now, Leon approaches the woman and she smiles warmly, extending both hands to him.

"Mother," Leon says, smiling broadly now, taking her hands and kissing them both before leaning down to receive her kiss on his cheek.

Leon's parents, Lady Amelia and Lord Spencer, have been two of the most respected nobles in Camelot for as long as Arthur can remember. Since Spencer's death several years ago from illness, Lady Amelia has become somewhat reclusive, appearing publicly only on very special occasions. She is still highly respected, however, a commanding presence without ever having to ask. She is widely known for giving away large portions of her wealth to help the poor and often hiring people who are lame or otherwise disabled as servants and giving them very simple tasks in her household, just so they can earn some coin to bring home to their families.

"I'm so glad you came out, Mother," Leon says as he escorts his mother to a seat that seems to have magically appeared beside his, nearest the head table.

Instead of taking her seat, however, Lady Amelia walks to the head table, moving around behind it to where the king and queen are seated. They see her approach and rise immediately to greet her. Lady Amelia stands in front of Gwen, and, pausing just long enough to ensure that everyone is watching, she curtseys deeply and says, "My queen, it is an honor to dine with you at your coronation feast." She says this loud enough for all to only _just_ hear.

Arthur bites back his grin, but looks at Leon, silently asking _Did you have something to do with this?_ Leon looks just as surprised as everyone else, and he smiles and shakes his head _no_ very slightly, his eyes twinkling.

Gwen returns her curtsey and says, "It is I who is honored, Lady Amelia. The king and I thank you for coming out from your home on this chill autumn night to attend our celebration." Then she holds out her hands to the Lady, who takes them and clasps them warmly in her own.

"Sire, allow me to offer my congratulations, both on your coronation and on your marriage," Lady Amelia steps forward and curtseys to Arthur now, and Arthur holds out his hand. She places hers in it and he kisses it respectfully.

"Thank you, Lady Amelia, for coming. I am certain Sir Leon is only too thrilled to have you here as well," Arthur says, smiling his thanks at her.

Amelia nods, and then as she passes Gwen on her way back to her seat, she whispers, "I always knew you were special. Make me proud, dear."

As Gwen and Arthur sit, they notice all eyes follow Lady Amelia as she takes her seat. The Lady is aware of this as well, and sweeps her gaze across the room, a split-second glance that is a silent challenge. _I dare you._

The food is served, venison that has just been caught that morning. For a hastily-prepared feast, the food is excellent and the servants are prompt and congenial, only too happy to have their proper rulers in place.

"I think Lady Amelia just solved your problem for you," Arthur speaks quietly in Gwen's ear, even kissing it while he was there.

"Maybe," she allows. "She at least lessened it for a while, anyway," Gwen smiles, looking down at Leon and his mother. "Look how Leon dotes on his mother," she says. "It's very sweet."

"She's no doubt reminding him of the fact that he has not yet married," Arthur remarks dryly, chuckling into his goblet.

Gwen looks again. _He's right,_ she realizes, chuckling now herself. Elyan is sitting with them, and he looks as pleased as Leon to see "Lady Milla," as he used to call her. He catches her looking at him and he beams at her. She waves at him and blows him a kiss.

xXx

"Sir Leon, when you told me that every queen needed a champion, I didn't realize that you were speaking of your mother," Gwen teases him when he comes to the head table to pay his respects. Lady Amelia had taken her leave already, after spending several long moments allowing Gwaine to flirt shamelessly with her while Leon glowered at him.

Arthur had wandered away, currently across the hall speaking to one of the Council members. He doesn't look very interested in what the Lord has to say, but he is being polite.

"She told me that she knows how petty the nobility can be, and feared they would make things difficult for you," Leon explains. "So she wanted to do what she could to help ease your transition from servant to queen, and felt that showing her loyalty to you would set an example to the others. Particularly the younger nobility."

"Please thank her for me. You still attend dinner with her twice a week, yes?"

"Of course," he nods.

"I shall have to send a token of my appreciation," she says.

Leon smiles again. "She anticipated that, and bid me tell you that it was her pleasure."

"Surely a bunch of flowers would not be turned away," Gwen says, angling her head at the knight.

"I do not see how they would, my lady," he smiles. "If you will excuse me," he says, nodding.

"Of course, and thank you, Sir Leon," she says, holding her hand out to him, which he takes and kisses. He turns to see Gwaine sauntering up, goblet in hand.

"Leon," Gwaine greets him.

" _Sir_ Gwaine, I'll thank you to pay a little less attention to my mother should you ever see her again," he warns.

"Hey, all I was doing was reminding her that she is beautiful," Gwaine defends himself. "No harm in that."

"She's my _mother,_ " Leon says, glaring down at the shorter man.

"Still a woman," Gwaine shrugs, then sighs. "Look, I apologize if it made you uncomfortable. But I made her smile, which is worth more than your discomfort." He hoists his goblet to Leon, and drinks.

Leon sighs and walks away.

"Princess," Gwaine grins at her.

"I think you'll find it's Queen, now," she laughs, reaching forward to touch his cheek gently. "Thank you, Gwaine," she says.

"For what?" he asks.

"Just thank you. Because I know Arthur probably won't say it."

"You are most welcome, my lady. And we know how Arthur feels. He doesn't say much, but he shows his gratitude in other ways."

"Really? Like what?" Gwen asks, intrigued.

"Oh, you know, little notes tucked into our chainmail, the occasional nuzzle by the campfire…"

Gwen laughs loudly now, clapping her hand over her mouth, but not before every face turns in her direction, wondering why their queen is laughing uproariously.

Then they notice that it is Sir Gwaine chatting with her, and conversations resume. _Already he has built a reputation, I see,_ Gwen thinks, still giggling.

"You have a wonderful laugh, my queen, I do hope I continue hear it often," Gwaine says, taking his leave now as Arthur approaches, presumably to find out…

"So what was so bloody funny over here?" he asks, but he is smiling.

"Gwaine," Gwen says, indicating the rapidly-retreating knight. "He just likes to make me laugh, apparently."

"Hmm."

"Jealous, husband?" she coos, leaning across the table towards him.

"Never," he says, kissing her.

"More water, my lady?" a voice interrupts them. The only voice that would dare.

"Merlin, why are you serving?" Gwen leans back and asks. She holds her goblet out, drinking only water as per Ailith's instructions.

"My new position won't be announced until tomorrow," he sighs. "So I figure I may as well be useful before I become merely decorative."

"You'd better be damn well more than decorative, Merlin," Arthur warns.

"Pssh." Merlin waves his hand dismissively, setting his pitcher on the table. "Honestly, when have I ever been decorative?"

"When have you ever been useful?" Arthur shoots back.

Now it is Merlin's turn to laugh and cause heads to turn. Arthur cannot help but join in himself, saying, "You walked right into it, Merlin."

"I know," Merlin answers, still laughing, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "But Gwen," he turns, "you should see my new robes. Very… wizard-y," he whispers conspiratorially.

"Wizard-y?" Arthur repeats, just as quietly. "They don't change color on their own or anything, do they?"

"No, no, no, nothing like that. They're not _enchanted_ robes or anything. I promise."

"What do they look like?" Gwen asks.

"You'll have to wait and see," he teases, and Gwen pouts. "Oh, and… I have a staff that I'll be carrying as well."

"A staff?" Arthur asks.

"You know, a wizard's staff. Big magic stick thing," he says, holding his hands a distance apart.

"Right. Why am I suddenly concerned?"

"Honestly, Arthur, it won't go off on its own or anything," Gwen says. "Will it?" she asks Merlin.

"No, it won't," Merlin says. "Oh, I started moving my things into my new rooms this afternoon as well. Since the whole castle is being put back together anyway, I took the liberty."

"You're taking many liberties, these days," Arthur mutters. "Where are they?"

"Just down from Gaius. Thought I'd at least stay in the vicinity so I can still assist him."

"That's very thoughtful, Merlin," Gwen says, stifling her third yawn since their conversation started.

"Guinevere, you are exhausted, Love," Arthur says, reaching his hand across the table to take hers.

"But there are still so many people here," she says, but Arthur is right. She is exhausted.

"You need your rest," Merlin says.

"No one will mind if you excuse yourself," Arthur says. "I'd come with you, but one of us should stay here," he adds, somewhat apologetically.

"I know," she says, squeezing his hand.

"Trust me, there's nothing I'd rather do right now than retire with you," he says, scanning the room still filled with knights and courtiers.

"I'd like that, too, but it cannot be helped," she says, standing now.

"Elyan," Arthur calls.

"Arthur…" Gwen says, knowing that Arthur is calling for an escort for her.

"You're not going un-escorted. You are the queen now, my love, and you _will_ be protected."

"I'm inclined to agree," Elyan says, joining them. "And who better to escort the queen than her own brother?"

"Well, the king, actually, but he must stay and attend his duty," Arthur answers. "Please escort the queen to our chambers, Sir Elyan. And do see that the guards are patrolling the corridor outside the royal chambers."

"Smith will be there, you know," Gwen reminds him.

"Yes, but the guards must do their jobs as well, that's why they're there," Arthur says.

"He was disappointed you wouldn't let him come down, you know," she chides.

"He's a _dog,_ Guinevere."

"He was still disappointed," she says, plucking a scrap of meat from the table and wrapping it in a napkin.

Gwen and Elyan start to leave, and Arthur meets them at the end of the table.

"Come here," he says, pulling her into his arms and kissing her softly but ardently. "Good night. I'll try not to be late."

"I can't guarantee that I'll be able to wait up for you," she says, her exhaustion being greater than her desire for her husband at the moment.

"Sleep is important," he says, "good for the baby." Gwen can hear the slight disappointment in his voice, only because it mirrors hers.

"Good night, my king," she whispers, kissing him once more then taking her brother's arm and leaving the hall.

Merlin finds Lark on her way to the kitchens, and touches her shoulder.

"Merlin!" girl exclaims, looking up at him.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. But I thought you'd like to know that your mistress is retiring for the night."

"Oh," she says, thrusting the empty platter she was carrying into his outstretched hands. "Thank you, Merlin, I will go attend her."

xXx

Arthur finally enters the royal bedchamber much later. Smith barely registers his entry, opening one eye and grunting softly.

He pads quietly to the bed, noting that she's left a few candles lit for him. He looks down at his wife, sound asleep in his bed.

_Our bed._

It is a sight he's wanted to see for longer than he would probably admit: Guinevere, in his bed.

 _Of course, in that fantasy she is awake. And usually naked._ Curious, he lifts a corner of the blankets. _Nightdress. Not that I'd wake her anyway._

He hears Caldwell enter softly and so he pulls the curtain on the near side of the bed. Gwen isn't indecent, but it still isn't proper for the king's manservant to look upon the sleeping queen.

"My lord," Caldwell says quietly, respectful of Gwen's slumber.

"Yes, get me out of this mail before I fall asleep wearing it," Arthur mutters, striding towards the young man.

A short time later, Arthur is curled around his wife's soft, sleep-warm body, smiling at how someone so tiny has managed to take up the entire bed, thinking of how he gently slid her over to give himself more room.

Gwen sighs in her sleep and snuggles against him, and he kisses the top of her head, falling asleep nearly before his head hits the pillow.


	14. Chapter 14

The royal couple makes their way to the balcony overlooking the courtyard, where the citizens of Camelot have gathered to greet their sovereigns.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asks the quiet Guinevere.

"Yes. No. I don't know," she answers. "Honestly I'm more nervous for Merlin."

"I'll be fine, Gwen," Merlin says from behind them, and they turn to see him standing there in his new robes. They are deep midnight blue with silver accents at the cuffs and neck. He is carrying an intricately carved staff the color of bleached driftwood, holding it as easily and as naturally as Arthur when he holds his sword. He even has new boots.

"It's _him_ that should be worried," Merlin continues, nodding in Arthur's direction.

"Thank you, Merlin, you always know just how to make me feel better," Arthur answers, looking at the ceiling with a sigh.

"Come," Gwen says. "Our people are waiting to see their new king."

"Our people are waiting to see their new _queen,_ " Arthur corrects. "Just wait," he adds when she looks at him sideways, skeptical.

And with that, they step onto the balcony and are immediately engulfed in cheers. Random cries of "Long live the king!" and "Long live the queen!" can be heard from time to time.

Arthur and Gwen smile warmly at them, and Gwen even waves a few times. They step a little further along, and Arthur holds his hands up, calling for silence.

It comes rather quickly, but it is unclear as to whether it was due to Arthur's bidding or the fact that Merlin has come fully into view.

"My friends," Arthur speaks, now, his voice clear in the morning air, "I would first like to thank you all for your loyalty to the true crown of Camelot and for your faith in my father and myself that we would triumph over Morgana's attempt at usurping the throne."

"Many lives were lost in the battle, chief among them of course being King Uther," Arthur continues sadly, "but he died knowing that Camelot would continue and thrive under my rule, not under Lady Morgana's tyrannical thumb."

 _Not exactly true, but I guess they don't need to know that,_ Gwen thinks.

"I can report that the Ladies Morgause and Morgana will never be a threat to Camelot again and are, at the moment, being transported to the traitors' graveyard outside of the kingdom."

More cheers. Some people look surprised, not having heard the news.

"There are many people to whom Camelot owes a debt of gratitude," Arthur says one the cheering dies down. _Now comes the hard part._ "Our brave knights, imprisoned in the dungeons for their loyalty to my father," he indicates one side of the courtyard where the knights are assembled. "However, were it not for the bravery of a small handful of knights who avoided imprisonment, the ranks would have never gotten the opportunity to do their duty to the crown. Please step forward Sir Leon, Sir Gwaine, Sir Lancelot, Sir Percival, and Sir Elyan."

There are confused mumblings among the crowd as the five men step forward from their positions in the front of the ranks.

"Who are those others?"

"Isn't that the blacksmith?"

"Wasn't he banished from Camelot?"

"I would also recognize Sir Bors, a part of this group, but unfortunately was lost to us in battle," Arthur speaks above the mutterings. He takes a deep breath. "You all know Sir Leon, Captain of the Knights of Camelot, returned to us from his questing to find, well, me," Arthur chuckles once, then continues, gathering himself. Gwen squeezes his hand.

"And many of you recognize Sir Elyan as Elyan the blacksmith and are wondering how this can be." He pauses, watching as the assembled heads nod and mutter.

"A new era is beginning in Camelot today, my friends," Arthur announces. "The principles of knighthood can be found in the common man as well, and I recognize that. Sirs Elyan, Gwaine, Lancelot, and Percival are common-born."

Merlin smirks as the actually noble-born Gwaine shifts uncomfortably on the cobbles.

"But these men embody the ideals of knighthood: Loyalty. Honor. Valor. Honesty. Bravery. To fight for what is right and good, against tyranny and injustice, to protect and defend the weak and helpless. These men came to Camelot's aid in her time of greatest need, asking nothing in return. These men fought for this kingdom, for you, for me, though two of them had been banished from this kingdom and one has never even set foot here before. These men are true Knights of Camelot."

Cheers erupt throughout the crowd, and Gwen has to blink back her tears, touched by Arthur's words and by the outpouring of support from the people.

"I hereby decree that any able-bodied man may petition for knighthood, regardless of standing," Arthur says, and there is more cheering.

"That doesn't mean I'm going to make it any easier to become a knight, though," he adds, the hint of a smile playing about his lips now.

"I would also like to acknowledge Queen Guinevere's contribution to the battle," Arthur says now, turning towards a surprised-looking Gwen, reaching his hand out to her.

"While she did not take up a sword and join the fray, she and Gaius tended the wounded and provided comfort and food to the small band of us who were hiding in the woods," he smiles. "She did this out of her love for this kingdom, though she had been sentenced to death and fled. She loves Camelot, and her love for this kingdom and all of you is what will make her a great queen, a queen worthy of the title."

"May I say something, my lord?" Gwen asks, biting her lip nervously.

"Of course," Arthur answers, and nods to her. She steps shyly forward and the crowd is immediately and completely silent. The people are very eager to hear what their familiar new queen has to say.

"As you all know, I have been a servant my entire life. I cleaned floors, washed dishes, laundered clothes. I looked after others; took care of them. I made sure that everything was in its proper place. I was never ashamed of who I was, and it has shaped who I am today," she pauses, her heart thumping in her chest, unaccustomed to public speaking and not especially enjoying the way her voice sounds as it echoes back at her from the stone walls of the courtyard.

"I have come to realize that as queen, I am still a servant. I am _your_ servant; the servant of the people of Camelot. I promise you now that I will continue to look after people and take care of them – take care of _you_ ; to make sure everything is in its proper place here in Camelot."

There is the briefest pause, and Gwen swears her heart stopped beating. Then one person shouts, "Long live the queen!" and the cheering begins anew.

Fresh tears fall from Gwen's face, tears of relief, tears of happiness, as she feels touched beyond measure. The cheers are not subsiding, they are growing. The knights have joined in now, and Gwen clasps her hands over her heart, overwhelmed.

Arthur beams at her, reaching over for her hand again as she steps back from the railing, squeezing it warmly. _Wow. She's good. Better than I could have hoped._

"Getting jealous now," Arthur mutters, and calls for silence again.

"Finally, there is one last person who deserves recognition. I'm sure many of you are wondering what my manservant Merlin is doing up here with us and why he is dressed like a noble."

More mutterings from the crowd. Gwen notices Leon quietly calling the knights to attention, making certain that they are alert.

 _Here goes,_ Arthur thinks. "Merlin has proved himself to be Camelot's most valuable asset."

 _Wow,_ Merlin and Gwen both think, peeking at each other behind Arthur.

"He went above and beyond the ability of any man in this endeavor. His skills were able to match Morgause and Morgana at their game," he pauses again as a few people in the crowd start to understand what Arthur is actually saying, the mumblings increasing slightly now. "And while he was not directly responsible for their deaths, he was instrumental in both of them as well as finding the key to defeating the so-called immortal army."

"People of Camelot, hear me, and I beg you, do not fear: Merlin is a wizard."

Gasps. Shouting. Disbelief.

Gwen glances at Merlin. He looks slightly green, and she reaches her hand out behind Arthur and squeezes Merlin's hand.

"I am lifting the ban on magic," Arthur says now, plunging forward.

More shouting, more gasps.

" _However,_ " Arthur's voice booms, and the crowd silences, cowed. "However, all magical activity will be _highly_ regulated and monitored. Merlin – Lord Merlin – will take the new post of Court Sorcerer and will also be acting as my primary advisor. He has shown repeatedly and beyond all doubt that he is nothing but loyal to Camelot and to me."

"He's been lying to you all this time! How can you call that loyal?" a single voice shouts, and Leon steps forward, hand on hilt, scanning the crowd.

"Hold, Sir Leon," Arthur says, extending his hand.

"Lord Merlin was forced to keep his… skills… a secret because of the law set down by my father. It is a law that was short-sighted at best, cowardly at worst."

Several people in the crowd gasp at hearing Arthur speak so of his father. Others nod in agreement.

"Merlin has proven to me that not all people who practice magic are evil. Anyone who knows Merlin at all knows that he doesn't have an evil bone in his body. The best way to fight those who use magic for evil is to have a very strong source of magic used for good. I know this now," Arthur says, and he sees many heads nodding below.

"The price he pays for his freedom and his life is that he will be responsible for regulating sorcery. If you wish to practice magic in Camelot, then you must answer to Lord Merlin. That is my decree."

Silence.

"If it were not for Merlin's considerable skill as a wizard, I would not be standing before you today with my queen by my side, and all of you would be bending your knees to Queen Morgana," he adds, just to drive his point home.

"Queen Guinevere and I thank you again for your loyalty and support, and the queen has ordered provisions brought from the kitchens for anyone that may have need," Arthur says, redirecting. _I think I've overwhelmed them. So now it's time to ply them with free food._

Doors open and castle servants come out with carts and trays bearing leftover food from last night's feast, and Arthur notices the mood shift immediately as people crane their necks, hoping to glimpse what morsels may be waiting for them.

Arthur places his arm around Gwen's waist, gently pulling her to his side, and she smiles up at him.

_He's got that look again._

"Arthur, no," she whispers.

"They'll love it, trust me," he mutters, his hand already moving toward her chin, angling her face up.

He bends down and kisses her sweetly, chastely, and clearly lovingly. The crowd forgets about the food for a moment to cheer again. More cries of "Long live the king!" and "Long live the queen!" can be heard.

"See?" Arthur gloats just slightly. They wave to the crowd and turn to head inside, leaving Leon and the knights to keep the crowd orderly as they come forward for their food.

xXx

"Everyone got cheers except for me," Merlin grumbles once they are back inside.

"Well, you had the biggest burden to bear, Merlin," Gwen says kindly. "People have gotten so afraid of magic that being told that the thing that many of them fear most is now legal is a lot to take in."

"And don't forget, you asked for this," Arthur adds, poking him in the shoulder.

"Ow," Merlin complains.

"Don't worry, Merlin, they'll come around. People may be a little afraid of you for a bit, but just continue to be your normal sweet self and they'll come around. Once they see, like we have, that you're still you despite the fact that you can do some really amazing things, they'll relax."

"Thank you, Gwen," Merlin says, finally smiling.

"Well, I, for one, want nothing more than to take this crown off and sit down," Arthur says, tucking Gwen's hand into his elbow and starting down the corridor.

"Sire?" a guard approaches, looking at Arthur with a slightly wide-eyed expression.

"Ugh. See what he wants, Merlin," Arthur says, continuing to walk.

Merlin groans but does as he is told. _I guess this is part of the advisor role._

"Arthur!" Merlin calls after them a few moments later as Arthur and Gwen walk hand in hand towards their chambers.

"What is it, Merlin?" Arthur says wearily, turning.

"The Council wishes to convene."

"Tomorrow," Arthur says.

"But…"

"Merlin, the only place I will be present between now and dinner – if that, even – is in the royal chambers. With my wife," he says. _In the royal chambers between my wife's beautiful firm thighs, specifically,_ he thinks, and one glance at Gwen tells him she knows exactly what he's thinking.

"They're already in there," Merlin protests, pointing in the direction of the hall.

"I am exhausted, Merlin, and Queen Guinevere needs her rest, as you well know," Arthur points out.

"Merlin," Gwen says gently, "surely in light of all that has happened, there is nothing so important that the Council cannot wait one more day before we need to meet?"

Merlin cannot help but smile at his friend, how she actually seems a born queen. "Of course, my lady," he nods.

"None of that now," she says, frowning at him. "I don't want any 'my ladys' from you."

"Guinevere…"

"No, Arthur. Merlin is like another brother to me. He can address me as he always has," she turns on him, hands on her hips.

He holds up his hands, surrendering. "All right. But publicly, he should use your title. Merlin, go sort it out. I will meet with the Council tomorrow. Tomorrow afternoon."

"Merlin," Gwen calls after him, and he turns back again. "I do like your new robes. Very dashing. And the staff is a nice touch indeed."

"Thank you," he grins and hurries away.

xXx

They reach the end of the corridor leading to the royal chambers to find Smith bounding toward them, loping with that slightly odd large-puppy gait of a dog that has yet to grow into his feet.

"Smith," Gwen smiles, calling him to her side. He slows when he reaches them and nudges her hip with his head. She obliges by scratching his ears.

"I'm going to get jealous of that dog," Arthur teases, so Gwen scratches him behind one ear as well.

Arthur laughs and looks down at the dog as they walk, noting his perfect bone structure and proud bearing.

"Almost a shame he's so devoted to you already. He would have been a magnificent hunting dog," Arthur sighs.

"He is a magnificent companion and protector, aren't you boy?" Gwen coos to the dog. Smith's long tail wags frantically.

They reach the doors to find them open, Caldwell waiting just inside. Gwen crouches to talk to Smith for a moment, kissing the top of his head before he does his turn-three-times-and-lay-down maneuver, settling into his basket.

"Ah, Caldwell," Arthur says, striding inside. He takes his crown off. "Take this and…" he reaches over and gently removes Gwen's crown as well just as she enters, "this and put them in their places in the vaults."

"You don't want to keep them in a more accessible location, my lord?" Caldwell asks, puzzled.

"No. I hate wearing it and plan to avoid doing so as much as possible. Do you have any objection to going crown-free as much as possible, Guinevere?"

"Um, no," she chuckles. "It's heavy and uncomfortable, to be honest," she tells the servant.

"Yes, my lady," Caldwell nods respectfully, taking both crowns and placing them in their boxes on the table. "Sire, do you require –"

"Nothing at all, Caldwell, thank you. You may bring lunch later, but the door will be locked, so just knock. I trust you've acquainted yourself with the queen's guard dog?"

"Um, yes, sire. Smith knows I mean the queen no harm," Caldwell says, smiling. He actually rather likes the dog, winning him over with a scrap of purloined venison.

Arthur notices that the boy tactfully doesn't ask about the locked door. _He's discreet. Good._ "Check in with Merlin, I mean, Lord Merlin to see if he needs any help with his move. He'll likely be wanting to head to the vaults himself, just to see if there's anything down there he might find useful."

"Yes, Sire. Um, does Lord Merlin have a key?"

"Yes, he does," Arthur says.

"He does?" Gwen asks. She didn't know this.

"Gave it to him this morning, yes," Arthur answers. His allows his gaze to linger over her for just a moment.

"All right. You are dismissed from my service for the day, save meal delivery. Go help Merlin instead," Arthur turns back to the servant, suddenly eager to be rid of him.

"Yes, my lord," Caldwell answers. He saw the look that passed between the king and queen, but he resolutely ignores it.

_"Arthur and Guinevere are very much in love," Merlin had warned him privately yesterday. "So be prepared to deal with that. Always, always knock on the doors to the royal chambers before entering. I used to have a bad habit of just barging in, and I'd get yelled at for it all the time. And that was before they were married." Caldwell nodded, listening._

_His last position was working in the knights' quarters, and he does not want to end up back there. The knights are more slovenly than pigs._

_"Just… be discreet and pretend not to notice when they get all… like they get with each other. If you get my meaning," Merlin had concluded. "And don't let him bully you. He lashes out when something frightens him."_

_"Thank you, Merlin," Caldwell answered._

_"And for the love of everything sacred, do not tell him that I told you all this!"_

"Um, sire," Caldwell ventures, "Would you like me to help you with your chainmail before I go?"

Gwen's lips twitch in amusement as Arthur stares a moment, seemingly dumbstruck. He peeks at Gwen. _Am I that obvious?_ he seems to ask, and her smirk gives him his answer.

"Yeah, all right," he finally says, and allows his young servant to attend him, removing the heavy garment and the under-padding so he is left in his white tunic and trousers.

Just the way Gwen likes him.

"All right. You may go, now," Arthur dismisses him.

"Yes, Sire. Thank you," Caldwell answers. He lifts the boxes containing the crowns and leaves the king and queen. Arthur closes the door behind him and as he walks down the corridor, he hears the lock slide into place.

"Are you very tired?" Arthur asks Guinevere, prowling forward, wrapping her in his arms.

"Yes, but not _that_ tired," she smiles seductively at him, pressing her body against his.

"Good answer," he says. As she twines her arms up around his neck, he bends and lifts her into his arms and strides purposely to the bed.

Placing her reverently on the bed, he leans down and kisses her softly, his hand drifting across her stomach.

Gwen sits up and he puzzles at her until she starts shuffling the bedclothes back. She toes her slippers off and lets them fall to the floor in an uncharacteristically careless manner.

"Your bed is very comfortable," she remarks, stretching languidly.

" _Our_ bed," Arthur whispers, his eyes growing dark at the sight of her luscious body writhing slowly on the bed, her fuller breasts straining at the bodice of her coronation gown, re-worn so the people could see it.

"Yes, Husband, _our_ bed. Now come over here and get me out of this dress," she purrs at him.

"Yes, my lady," he answers, first whipping his shirt over his head and tossing it on a nearby chair.

She turns her back and Arthur lounges beside her, his practiced fingers making quick work of her laces and when the dress opens, she sighs again, this time with relief.

"Was it too tight?" he murmurs, his lips trailing her shoulder blade.

"I think so," she says. "I'll make sure Lark doesn't do that again."

"Good," he says, helping her sit up now to make it easier to remove her dress. She stands then, and drops the gown to the floor, immediately picking it up again and draping it carefully over the same chair on which Arthur had thrown his shirt.

Arthur leans up on one elbow, watching her with an interested, lustful expression. She drops the straps of her shift and the silk skims down over her body, and, naked, she crawls back onto the bed with him.

He immediately pounces, hands everywhere, lips hungry and searching, and Gwen is surprised at the sudden intensity of his need.

"Arthur…" she gasps, her hands at the ties of his trousers, "slow down. We have all day…"

"I just…" he starts, still kissing in between his words. "I need…" he tries again, struggling with the words. She places her hands on either side of his face and stills him.

"Arthur," Gwen says softly, staring into his eyes.

"There's just been so much ugliness, Guinevere," he finally settles down enough to speak, his head on her shoulder, lips brushing her neck as he talks. "So much death. Betrayal. Hate."

"I know," she whispers, holding him to her, caressing the broad muscles of his back. She understands now, but she lets him continue.

"I need you now. Your love, your goodness. You are my life. I need life now."

"And you are mine, Arthur. You are everything to me."

"At least for the next several months," he says, his hand drifting to her stomach again, and she feels him smile against her neck.

"The heart expands, my love," she sighs.

"Indeed," he mutters, and his lips start kissing her neck again, and the brief discussion is apparently over.

His hand finds her breast now, gentle and soft, teasing the tender and sensitive flesh. Gwen's hands resume their work removing his trousers, opening them and pushing them as far as she can before he quickly pulls away to yank them off.

Arthur drops over her, gently covering her, careful not to squash her. He kisses her lips, lingering over them, savoring their taste.

Gwen slides her hands over his chest, the light covering of hair tickling her fingertips as she caresses his warms skin. She bends one leg, sliding it against him, adding yet another point of contact, another place aching for the others' touch.

He kisses his way downward, taking his time along the column of her neck, savoring her skin. Moving downward, her hands in his hair now, running her fingernails lightly along his scalp, leaving a tingling trail in their wake.

Arthur lingers again at her breasts, tenderly kissing them, taking care in their sensitive state. Her moan of pleasure is music to him, and he smiles into her breasts, his hand gently holding, stroking the skin with his thumb.

He leaves her breasts to press soft kisses to her stomach, just slightly more round than it has been. Arthur smiles, knowing that he is probably the only one who can see any difference apart from her. And knowing that he is responsible for it; that his little son or daughter is nestled safely within.

Gwen feels his kisses on her stomach, feels his warm breath against her skin, but she cannot make out what he is whispering.

"What are you saying, Arthur?" she asks softly.

"Talking to the baby," he says.

"And you're not going to tell me?"

"No," he says, dipping his tongue into her navel now, and she jumps slightly, the sensation both ticklish and erotic.

She squirms beneath him, and he moves lower, hoping. _Maybe this time,_ he thinks, his previous efforts to pleasure her in this manner having been thwarted by her.

"Arthur…" she starts to protest, but he will not be deterred this time, creeping down, kissing her inner thigh now, dragging the very tip of his tongue up towards his target.

"Arthur… no, you… you shoul—oh! Oh my…" her protest switches direction and turn into pleasurable cries as his tongue finds its goal, circling around that most sensitive spot. She moans again, arching beneath him, her hands clutching the sheets as he swirls his tongue around and around, probing lower to thrust inside now and then.

"Ohgodswhyhaven'tIletyoudothisbefore…" she gasps, the words tumbling from her lips like dice from a cup, hurried and scattered.

He chuckles against her moist warmth, thoroughly enjoying her responsiveness, her passion unleashed around him, her pleasure bringing him pleasure as well.

"Oh… ah…" she is whimpering and mewling now, unraveling under him, quickly approaching her climax, climbing towards the sun.

Then Arthur stops, moving back up, hovering close over her body so they are just barely touching, the shared body heat radiating between them.

Gwen makes a disappointed whimper when he withdraws. "Not fair…" she gasps, quivering, dangling on the precipice.

Arthur kisses her now, passionate and fiery. "Sorry," he apologizes, "I want to share it with you. I need to…"

"Oh," Gwen understands suddenly, clutching him to her, feeling his erection pressing against her stomach and she strokes him lightly a few times before gripping tighter, guiding him to her.

Arthur doesn't hesitate, plunging forward into her with a groan. Gwen responds with a gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders.

"Mmm," he hums against her neck, reaching down, pulling her leg up around his waist, allowing him to delve deeper. "Oh…"

"Arthur," she whispers, leaning down and kissing his ear, nipping the edge of it before flicking her tongue lightly against it.

He moves swiftly, forceful but not punishing, thrusting, moving within her, absorbing her love, lost in her. "Guinevere," he answers, his voice gruff.

She holds his face close, kissing his lips, his jaw.

"I love you, Arthur, so much," she mutters, kissing his temple.

He raises up now, supporting his weight on his elbows as he gazes down at her, her eyes closed, head back, lips parted. _Exquisitely beautiful,_ he manages to think just as her gasps grow fevered, almost frantic, her fingers curling into his chest, her leg tightening around him as she finally falls from the precipice into the sun.

"Oh!" she cries out, and it is Arthur's undoing as well as he gathers her to him, groaning her name with his own release.

They cling to each other, their breathing gradually slowing, their throbbing bodies stilling.

"I love you more," he finally answers, easing himself down, rolling them so she is on top of him. He wraps his arms around her and holds her tightly.

"Feel better?" she asks him, resting her chin against his chest to look up at him.

"For now."


	15. Chapter 15

"What do you mean, the king will not see us today?" a council member, Lord Pearson, blusters.

"I mean that the king and queen are indisposed for the balance of the day and the Council will convene tomorrow," Merlin politely explains.

"But those proclamations he made… he can't just announce those things and walk away!"

"I think you'll find that that's exactly what he has done, my lord," Merlin answers, still keeping his voice polite. His eyes dart to the side of the room where Gwaine and Elyan are standing guard. _Eavesdropping, more likely._

"This is preposterous," Lord Pearson huffs.

"Unorthodox, yes, but we will be meeting tomorrow," another man, Lord Tilton, tries to make peace. He's a bit more reasonable – and a bit smarter – than Lord Pearson.

"Yes. Tomorrow afternoon, he said," Merlin nods.

Lord Pearson huffs again.

"The king and queen merely wish for rest today, my lords," Merlin continues. "The past few days have been trying indeed for them. Returning from exile, reclaiming the throne, not to mention the fact that King Arthur has just lost what remained of his family."

"Well, the last few days have been trying for us as well, you know," Lord Arledge, a man who's genius rivals Lord Pearson's, says, crossing his flabby arms in front of his puffy chest.

"Oh, forgive me, Lord Arledge. I didn't realize that you took part in the battle," Merlin says obsequiously. "Tell me, how did you fare against Morgause's immortal army?" _I could get used to this speaking freely stuff._

From the side he hears Gwaine cover his snort of laughter with a coughing fit, and he sees Elyan biting back his own snickers. _I don't know that the two of them should be allowed to spend too much time together,_ he thinks, making a note to mention it to Leon.

Lord Tilton and some of the more intelligent lords are chuckling as well, however, and Merlin decides this conversation is over.

"Until the morrow, my lords," he says, and strides from the hall.

"Merlin," Sir Leon calls to him in the corridor, with Percival and Lancelot close at hand.

"Yeah," Merlin walks over. _Sure glad Arthur is getting some rest,_ he thinks ruefully.

"Sir Percival said something that got me thinking," Leon says.

"What's that?"

"Well, most of the undead army were Cenred's men," he starts.

"I recognized several of them," Percival nods.

"Hmm," Merlin says, understanding where they are going with this conversation.

"Yet we know nothing of Cenred," Leon continues.

"That is unusual. You'd think he would at least have been lurking on the fringe of the forest, waiting to bask in whatever glory he might grab," Merlin answers.

"Exactly…" Leon replies, surprised again at Merlin's intelligence. "Um, so we'd like to send a party to Cenred's kingdom and see what we can find."

"Do you think Morgause…?" Merlin asks.

"Got what she wanted from him and eliminated him? Possibly."

"Put together a small party," Merlin says.

"I'd like to volunteer," Percival speaks up.

"I'd like you to lead the party, Sir Percival," Merlin tells him. Leon looks slightly wounded, so Merlin quickly says, "You are needed here, Sir Leon. I need your help taking care of this place while Arthur and Gwen, um, rest."

"Yes, my lord," Leon nods, finding it surprisingly easy to address Merlin by his new title. _He is so different. Intelligent. Commanding._

"Lancelot, would you join Percival? I know this mission may be heavy on his heart, and he will need a trusted friend," Merlin asks.

"I had already planned on doing so," Lancelot smiles.

"Good. Gather, oh, four or so more. With Cenred's entire army wiped out you shouldn't need a large band. And if Gwaine volunteers, don't take Elyan, and vice versa."

"What? Why?" Percival asks.

Leon laughs. "Because those two are cut from the same cloth and if they spend too much time together they'll likely get into trouble."

"Exactly," Merlin chuckles. _Should have known he would have spotted that already._

"We'll gather some men and leave immediately," Percival nods.

"Percival," Merlin calls, and the large man turns.

"Best go unadorned, just in case. Don't wear Camelot's colors. Attempt to appear as travelers looking for work or something."

"Right. But what do we do if there is a new ruler with whom we might want to ally ourselves?" he asks.

Merlin thinks a moment. "Come find me before you go. I'll draw up a parchment for you to take."

"Doesn't such a missive require Arthur's signature?" Leon asks.

Merlin gives him a look that clearly says _oh, please_ and walks away, heading towards his new rooms.

"Lord Merlin!" Caldwell now.

"What now?" Merlin exclaims, throwing up his hands. Caldwell ducks, not sure about the staff clutched in the wizard's hand.

"Um, the king has sent me to assist you with your move today," Caldwell says, his voice small.

"Oh. Excellent. Come along, then," Merlin says, waving his free hand. "And don't worry, this thing is harmless unless I will it otherwise," he adds.

xXx

"For now?" Gwen asks, shifting slightly to pull the covers up over them.

"Cold?" Arthur asks, and she nods. "And yes, for now. I'm not done with you yet, my love." He holds her close to his side while she giggles. "This bed is much more comfortable than our bed in Lyonesse," he comments idly. "I've missed it."

"Oh, goodness, we just abandoned the house. I do hope someone looks after the ox and the chickens."

Arthur chuckles. "See, that's one of the many reasons I love you, Guinevere. Not once did the chickens or that infernal ox cross my mind."

"We should send a message to Sherman at least," she says. "Tell him to let Fleta and Radley live there or something."

"Radley?"

"Bartley's son. You know, her husband? Honestly, Arthur, we were at the wedding," Gwen chides him.

"Where are they living now?"

"Well, they were in Bartley's house when we left. That's no place for newlyweds, under the same roof with parents."

"Yes, would put a damper on baby-making activities, wouldn't it?" Arthur grins at her and squeezes her backside.

She kisses his chin and scoots away, swinging her feet to the floor and standing. Arthur enjoys the view for a moment, then asks, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to write Sherman while I'm thinking of it. Do you have a dressing gown or something?" She looks around and settles on his discarded shirt, pulling it over her head. It falls nearly to her knees and the sleeves hang well past her hands.

Arthur smirks at her, watching as she calmly rolls the sleeves up. "You look wonderful in my shirt. Better than me, if that's possible."

"I am in serious need of clothing," she answers, ignoring his arrogance as usual. "Remind me to add a dressing gown to the list when I next talk to the seamstresses."

"You are more than welcome to wear any of my shirts at any time, my love," he says, watching her as she walks over to his desk and sits at his chair. "You really have to do that now?"

"Yes. Otherwise I'll be thinking about it. And I believe you'll probably want my, um, full attention, later, so just indulge me here." She starts twisting her hair into a single braid, keeping it out of the way and somewhat orderly.

"I indulge you plenty, wife," he remarks, and she sticks her tongue out at him. He laughs and gets out of bed, wandering over to the chamber pot in the corner, peeking out a window, pouring himself a drink of water.

"My goodness, Arthur, put something on," she chastises lightly from his desk, glancing up. _He probably thinks he's distracting me._

"Why, am I too distracting for you?" he grins, walking over now and bringing her a goblet of water as well.

"Not at all," she says, not looking up. "I just don't want you catching a chill."

"Drink?" he says, setting the cup down.

"Thank you," she says, pausing to lift the cup to her lips, still stubbornly not paying him any heed.

"I'll just go put a few more logs on the fire then," he says, smirking at her, still not covering himself.

"Don't burn anything important," she mutters, and Arthur guffaws.

"Guinevere, you surprise me!" he exclaims, walking back. "What happened to that demure girl I married, the one who was afraid to show she was enjoying my attention?"

"You corrupted her," she grins over her parchment, finishing her message. "I suppose I should sign it 'Goldevia,' huh?"

"Probably. They don't know you by any other name," Arthur says, walking over, leaning to read over her shoulder.

_Dear Sherman,_

_By now you've no doubt noticed our absence. We had a family emergency to which we had to attend, and it has become a permanent situation. I wish I could elaborate more, but I do not have enough parchment. Please know what we are all well and happy, but we will not be returning to Lyonesse. If Fleta and Radley are still lodging with Bartley, please offer them the house and all it contains._

_Perhaps one day we will get the opportunity to visit, and at that time, we will explain everything. Send our greetings to everyone and I hope you are all well._

_With warm regards,_

"You want to go visit sometime?" Arthur asks, bending down now, pressing his lips to her neck.

"Maybe," she says, tilting her head now, allowing him more access. "I feel bad just slipping away in the dead of night like we did."

"There was no time," he says, his hand creeping now, slipping into the vee at the front of the shirt to close over a breast. "And from what I understand, Merlin wanted to wait till morning and it was _you_ that insisted upon leaving immediately."

"That was… because I was worried about… you," she says, her eyes drifting closed, thinking becoming difficult as his thumb toys with her nipple and his lips toy with her neck. "Arthur, I need to finish this," she protests weakly.

"Looks done to me," he says, giving her breast a gentle squeeze.

"I need to sign my name," she says, straightening up and quickly signing her name – well, Goldevia's name – at the bottom. "Goodness, I hope they can read. Or someone there can, anyway. They were so good to us. I feel we owe them an explanation," she adds before he can descend upon her again.

"You're probably right," he agrees, pulling the chair back away from the desk and coming around in front of her. "Of course you're right— oh!" he grunts in surprise as she takes his partially-erect member in her hand now, contemplating it, eye-level as he stands before her. "What are you doing?" he whispers, watching wide-eyed as she leans forward.

"Oh," he says, grabbing the desk behind him when her tongue comes out and shyly licks the tip of him.

"Did you like that?" she asks, suddenly bashful again. She can feel him growing firmer, longer, in her hand, and she knows her answer before he says anything.

He nods mutely. Gwen smiles and does it again, slower this time, lingering a bit. She runs her tongue around the tip, circling it.

"More," he croaks, trying not to thrust his hips forward.

 _More? So it's true, the talk that I heard that day in the kitchen…_ Guinevere moves her hand back, exposing more of his length, and slips him into her mouth, surrounding him with her lips, her tongue warm and wet against him.

Arthur groans, long and low, and his head drops back. She slides back and forward again, sucking as she does so, and she feels his body jerk in response.

"Sorry," she says, releasing him.

"Don't stop," he hurriedly grunts, gripping the desk to keep himself from grabbing her head and pushing it back over him.

"Oh," she says, chuckling just a little, and takes him back into her mouth, repeating the action that made him jump before. He's prepared now for what she has to dish out and so he manages to keep relatively still as she licks and sucks him.

He groans again, now clinging to the desk to stay upright. "Oh, Guinevere… you're unbelievable…" he moans.

 _This is power,_ she vaguely thinks, heady with the realization of what she's doing to him, how she's making him unravel with just her mouth and tongue. Not to mention what it's doing to her own body. The combination spurs her on and she runs her tongue up and down his shaft before taking his length fully into her mouth again, sucking a little harder.

"Guinevere…" he says her name again, sounding a little frantic. "Love… I'm… I'm going to…"

 _Going to what?_ Gwen thinks, then the realization hits her just before his seed surges into her mouth. She swallows reflexively before gently releasing him.

He sinks to the floor, dropping to his knees in front of her, his head falling into her lap. She runs her fingers into his hair.

"Your bum's going to get cold on the floor there," Gwen says after a moment, taking another drink of water, and he laughs, kissing her thigh.

"Let's go back to the bed. Where it's nice and warm," she suggests, lifting his head.

"Mmm, good idea," he says, standing and pulling her to her feet, leading her back to their rumpled bed.

"Keep an ear out for Caldwell with our lunch. I want to give him the message so he can take it to Merlin."

"Sure," Arthur says casually.

"Arthur," she says sternly, looking at him.

"All right, I will," he gives in, pulling her against him in the bed. "Is it that late already?"

"Should be fairly soon, I would think," she says. "So don't go starting something," she says, moving his hand from where it was creeping up beneath her shirt (his shirt) to her backside.

"Well, I do need some time to recover after… how did you know to do that, anyway?" he looks down at her.

"Um… how can I say this delicately…" she pauses, looking away.

"You've done it before?" he asks, shocked, trying not to overreact.

"No!" she answers, "no. I was just trying to think of a way to explain without making the other castle maids look bad."

"Oh," he breathes a huge sigh.

"Arthur, you are the only man I have ever done… _anything_ with," she reassures him, kissing him.

"Good," he says, preening. She slaps his chest. "Ow! So, the other maids are… not exactly _maids,_ then, hmm?" he presses, curious.

"There were a handful of us who prized our virtue. The rest were a lot more, shall we say, free, with theirs. I know Lark, my new maidservant, is still innocent, and I do plan on talking with her about the subject before some of the other girls get their hooks into her."

"So I presume you got quite an education listening to them talk, then?"

Gwen nods. "When I first heard them speaking of… _that…_ I was certain that they were joking. I didn't think people would find such a thing pleasurable."

Arthur smiles. "My sweet, innocent wife," he hugs her.

"Not anymore, apparently," she says dryly, and Arthur laughs again. "But after your repeated attempts to pleasure me that way—"

"At which I finally succeeded," he interjects, grinning proudly.

"Yes, yes," she placates him, chuckling. "I got to thinking that maybe they weren't having me on after all. And then you were standing there, and it was right there…"

"Yes, and I very nearly broke the edge off the desk I was gripping it so hard," Arthur comments, and Gwen giggles. "That one time in my youth did not involve that, so it was a first for me as well," he admits, nuzzling her hair.

"Good," she says, kissing his chest.

"You were amazing, Guinevere," he says, his voice low.

"Not that you have any basis for comparison," she giggles, much to his chagrin.

"Don't need any," he says, his lips trailing down her temple to her cheek.

"Arthur, lunch," she reminds him.

"Having mine now," he answers, nibbling her ear.

As if on cue, they hear the distinctive sound of Caldwell fussing with a tray outside their door.

Arthur growls and gets up, jumping into his trousers as he walks to the door. Gwen gets up and rolls up the parchment, sealing it with wax but no official seal. _Wouldn't want to alarm them._

"Caldwell," Arthur opens the door and calls after the retreating servant. He looks down to see Smith lift his head. The dog looks interestedly at Arthur, thumps his tail once, and puts his head back down with a sigh.

"My lord!" the young man jumps, surprised, not expecting to hear Arthur's voice. He turns to see the king standing there in nothing but trousers, his hair rumpled. _Ignore it._ "What do you require, my lord?" he asks, walking back.

"What's going on?" Arthur asks, standing in the slightly-open door.

"My lord?"

"Just in general. Anything interesting?"

"Lord Merlin's move is going well. He's having a bit too much fun in the vaults, I fear," he says, grinning despite himself. "Finding things that have been heretofore forbidden to see the light of day, you know."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "I do hope he's not going overboard," he sighs.

"Oh, he's being careful. He picked up this chest thing, about _so,_ " he holds his hands about three feet apart. "It was heavy. Then a muffled voice came from within it and it jostled slightly in his hands."

"What on earth?" Arthur asks.

"I don't know, but he couldn't stash it away fast enough. He muttered something like, 'Oh, right. Him,' and shoved it _way_ under a shelf. I asked, but he only waved me away. Then he laughed a little."

"He's strange, yes, but at least now we know why," Arthur chuckles.

Caldwell blinks in surprise as a slender brown arm appears from beneath Arthur's arm, as if he has sprouted another limb that doesn't match. The arm is holding a rolled up piece of parchment out for him. The servant takes it, still a bit puzzled, and he notices the unmistakable white linen of Arthur's shirt hanging from her arm, rolled up at the cuff.

 _So that's where Arthur's shirt is,_ he notes. "Sire?" he asks, brandishing the parchment in front of the now-distracted king's face. Gwen is obviously still right behind him.

"Oh, take that to Lord Merlin and have him send it to Sherman," Arthur instructs, snapping back to reality. Guinevere's hands on his back are pulling his attention elsewhere.

"Sherman, my lord?" Caldwell asks.

"Merlin knows who he is," Arthur says. "Oh, and Caldwell," he adds, "tell Merlin to use one of our human messengers, not one of his little bird-things. We don't want to startle our friend Sherman."

"Um, yes, my lord…" Caldwell answers. _This job gets stranger every day._

"Ask Merlin if you want an explanation," Arthur says dismissively. He closes his eyes for a moment as he feels Gwen place a few kisses along his spine.

"My lord?" Caldwell asks.

"Any other information I should know about?"

"Lord Merlin sent a party to Cenred's kingdom to investigate. Sir Percival claimed that many of Morgause's army were actually Cenred's men, but—"

"There was no sign of Cenred," Arthur nods. "Who went?"

"Sir Percival led the party, with Sirs Lancelot, Elyan, Kay, James, and Ranulf."

"Very good," Arthur says. He hadn't heard Percival's story first hand like the others, but he'd been filled in on the details and knows why Percival would be keen on such a mission.

"Lord Merlin drafted up a missive proposing an alliance should someone other than Cenred be ruling there now," Caldwell adds.

"He did? So he just signed my name, then?" Arthur asks, reaching around behind him now, clearly trying to do something about his mischievous wife. Caldwell hears and ignores a very faint giggle from behind the door.

"Um, yes, Sire, I believe he did," he answers, worried now that he'll be getting Merlin in trouble.

"All right, then," Arthur shrugs. "Things seem to be well in hand." He chuckles a moment. "I almost pity Cenred if Percival does find him alive…"

"Yes, Sire," Caldwell agrees.

"Thank you, Caldwell," Arthur dismisses him now, reaching for the tray sitting on a bench outside. He lifts a corner of the cloth covering the food and sees a large bone alongside the food.

"For the dog, Sire."

"I gathered as much. Here, Smith," Arthur calls, tossing the bone to the suddenly very interested puppy, who catches it easily and goes to work. He feels Gwen smiling against his back.

"You may go, Caldwell," Arthur says. "I think we'll take dinner here as well."

"Yes, my lord."

"Oh, and do take Smith out and get him some fresh air and exercise this afternoon, please. I'm certain the queen would appreciate it," Arthur adds, clearly having been prompted.

"Yes, my lord," Caldwell repeats with a nod, and heads back down the corridor.

Arthur takes the tray inside and sets it on the table. "Hmm." Then he picks it up and moves it to the fireplace, saying, "I owe you a picnic. An undisturbed picnic. Even though you were being rather naughty while I was trying to talk to my servant." He raises an eyebrow at her, and she laughs, sitting on a cushion on the floor, tucking her legs slightly underneath her and to the side.

"Was my lord not pleased?" she asks innocently.

"I would have been, had I not been standing there talking to Caldwell," he mutters, but he is trying not to smile. "It could have become very embarrassing." He sits beside her now.

"Good thing I didn't grab your backside, then," she laughs. "I was going to."

"Guinevere!" he starts laughing now.

"It's so good to hear you laugh, Arthur," she says, "I love it." She takes the plate he's offered her and pops a bite into her mouth.

"I love you," he says, leaning over to kiss her. "And I love that you can make me laugh. I need to more often, I think."

"We all do, Arthur."

They eat quietly for a short time, shyly watching each other now and then, just enjoying each other's company. At one point Gwen gets up and grabs a blanket, the red one, and wraps it around her legs.

"So I'm really the only man you've done _anything_ with?" he asks after a bit.

"Well, I did kiss Lancelot once. Wait, twice," she admits. "The first time he came to Camelot. And then when I was at Hengist's. Before you came to rescue me with that terrible lie about only coming because Morgana begged you."

"You knew I was lying?" he asks, trying to not be bothered about Lancelot. _She loves me, she married me, she's having my baby. What more reassurance do I need?_

"Not when you said it. It hit me later that you lied because you were hurt by Lancelot's presence and how we…"

"Yeah."

"Over and done," Gwen waves her hand. "Besides, it's not like _you_ never kissed anyone else. Lady Vivian. That other one… Sophia, was it? And others, I'm sure. And no, I don't want to know," she chuckles.

"Lady Vivian doesn't count," he says petulantly.

"I did kiss Merlin once," she says, smirking at him.

"You did not!" Arthur sputters.

"I did. Only because I thought he was dead. He woke up, and I kissed him before I could help myself."

Arthur stares at her as if she has grown antlers.

"Oh come off it, Arthur, he's a sweet, wonderful person, and at the time, he was much nicer to me than you were."

"When was this?"

"When you got that flower to cure him. The one you snuck me in the dungeon."

"Oh. Back then."

"Yes, probably before you even took notice of me," she says, throwing a grape at him, which he deftly catches in his mouth.

"Oh, I had noticed you by then," he says. "Well, maybe that's when I started noticing you…"

"You are impossible," she sighs.

"And yet you married me," he smirks, bringing a piece of chicken to her lips, feeding it to her. She takes the meat from his fingers and his lips follow, kissing her before she even swallows the bite.

"Arthur," she protests, but to no avail. She manages to swallow her bite when he pauses to push their plates aside, no longer interested in lunch.


	16. Chapter 16

Spring comes, bringing with it the sunshine, new green leaves, chirping birds, and a message from King Marke of Cornwall, inviting the new King and Queen of Camelot to visit and discuss alliances.

Guinevere wakes slowly, scrunching into the bedclothes, looking for her husband's warm body.

 _Where is he?_ She pries one eye open, then the other, and looks around, only to find him staring into a mirror, regarding his chin.

"Arthur?" she calls softly.

"I think I might grow a beard," he says, twisting his jaw this way and that, trying to picture it.

"I think not," she answers, awkwardly sitting up, shifting under the weight of her swollen belly.

"No? You don't think it will help me look… older? More distinguished? Wiser?"

"Oh, I'm sure you would look fine with a beard," she says. "But no."

"Leon and Gwaine both have them," he protests.

"Arthur, you sound like a child whose mother isn't letting him have a sweet."

"Sorry. But…"

"Yes, Leon and Gwaine both have beards. As do several other knights."

"But?"

"But I don't have to kiss Leon or Gwaine or any of those others," she says, angling her head at him now.

Light dawns. "Right."

She sits up further, smirking. "Actually, come to think of it, I don't _have_ to kiss you, either…"

"You wouldn't dare!" he exclaims, coming back to the bed.

"Grow a beard and find out, then," she challenges, lifting her chin defiantly at him.

He leans over and kisses her now. "Okay, I won't. I was just thinking…" He runs his hand idly around her stomach, leaning down to kiss it softly.

"I know what you were thinking," she says, resting her hand on his cheek. "But having a beard isn't going to influence anyone's opinions of you, Love. It's about what comes out of here," she places a finger to his lips, and he kisses it, "not what's around here," she runs both her hands along his cheeks, chin and neck. "And what's in here," she moves her hand to his heart, and he lifts his hand, holding hers there.

"I know. It's just that appearances seem so important to most of the narrow-minded idiots I have to deal with out there."

"Arthur. Lord Pearson and Lord Arledge both have beards, and both _appear_ to be very distinguished nobles."

"Good point," he says, climbing fully back into bed beside her, pulling her back down to lie beside him. He snuggles up against her and places his hand on her stomach again, caressing gently, his head on her shoulder.

 _He's always so preoccupied with my stomach,_ she thinks. "And we all know that as soon as either of them opens their mouths, everyone immediately learns that they are both colossal idiots."

Arthur laughs out loud at this, snuggling into her.

"This invitation from King Marke has really got you rattled, hasn't it?" she asks, reaching her hand up into his hair, running her fingers through.

"Well, considering the last time I saw the man I was an obnoxious twelve-year-old…" he says.

"You weren't that obnoxious when you were…" Gwen says, stopping when she sees the look he is giving her. "Okay, you were insufferable," she laughs, leaning over to kiss him.

"I was a total prat until I was about…" he pauses, thinking.

"Twenty-one?" Gwen ventures, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, when I was officially named Crowned Prince," he nods.

"No, when Merlin arrived in Camelot," she corrects, grinning. "And when you started realizing that I was a person."

"Not just a person," he says, pulling her close. "A woman. A beautiful, intelligent, brave woman, who puts the needs of others before herself," he declares, kissing her ardently, leaning over her now. Then he rolls them, pulling her over him as best he can.

"I'm still coming with to Cornwall," she says, pulling her lips away, sitting back, straddling him now.

"How did you…? Never mind," he gives up, remembering that she knows him better than he knows himself. He frowns. "I'm just worried about the baby and the traveling," he says quietly, his hands on her stomach again, caressing lightly.

"Ailith said it would be perfectly fine," she says, taking his hand and moving it over to one side. Arthur smiles when he feels his baby kick his hand. "He's busy this morning," Gwen adds.

"You're still not riding a horse. We'll set up a nice wagon for you and you will ride on many soft cushions," he says, chasing the baby's kicks with his hand. The silk of Gwen's nightdress keeps bunching as he slides his hands around, and he _humphs_ and shoves his hands beneath her gown, sliding them up to rest on her skin.

"Arthur!" Gwen exclaims, laughing at his behavior. "Fine," she acquiesces, "I will ride in a wagon, like _cargo,_ " she rolls her eyes, "on one condition."

"What's that?" he asks, his attention becoming further divided, a certain familiar look coming into his eyes now that his hands are beneath her nightdress.

"Smith comes along, too." She moves his hand again, and he is rewarded with another kick. A big one. "See? Baby agrees."

"If it will make you happy to bring him, then he can come," Arthur gives in, pushing his hands upwards quickly, shedding her of her gown and pulling her face down to his, done talking.

xXx

"All right, my love?" Arthur asks for the tenth time since they set out from Camelot. They are intending to make the trip in two parts, stopping for the night halfway.

"Yes, Arthur, I'm fine. Just bored, mainly," she calls back, rolling her eyes at him. Gwaine grins over at her and she sighs.

"He's only letting you come because you may be the only person on this earth who is more stubborn than he is," Leon mutters. He's been riding alongside the wagon where she and Smith have been sitting the whole time, still considering himself her champion.

"No, it's not that," Gwaine interjects. "She's just the only person who could _really_ make Arthur suffer if she doesn't get what she wants," he chuckles.

"Well, King Marke's invitation was to both of us, and he specifically mentioned wanting to meet me," Gwen says, shifting her position slightly before shooting a pointed glare at Gwaine. "I wouldn't want to disappoint him and risk insult."

Leon smiles. "Mother was right. You are a born queen."

Up ahead, Merlin pulls alongside Arthur. "Where are we stopping?" he asks.

"Fatigued already, Sir Wizard?" Arthur asks.

"No, just curious. Surely you won't be having Gwen sleep on the cold ground in her condition," he ventures.

"Of course not. She can sleep in the wagon," he says, and Merlin's eyes grow wide with surprise.

"You are too easy sometimes," Arthur laughs. "I plan on stopping at the same inn where we spent our wedding night."

"Oh," Merlin says, his mind reeling now. "Um, okay."  
"Merlin, what did you do?"

"Well, before we left, I enchanted the innkeeper and his wife. To cover our trail, you know."

"And?"

" _And_ their memory of us is slightly… skewed."

"Skewed?"

"Altered. I kind of… jumbled us up. Made Gwen a tall blonde. They'll remember you having my coloring, and me having Gwen's…"

"Can you un-do it?"

"I'll try. If not, then what's the harm, really?"

"I suppose none. But do try. They were nice people and I should like to thank them again for their hospitality."

"Arthur?" Gwen's voice calls from the wagon.

"Yes?" he asks, turning back towards her.

"Can we stop for a bit? I need to, um, stretch my legs," she says, looking at him pointedly.

"Oh. Um. Right. There's a clearing just ahead, near that stream. We'll stop and get some water and stretch a bit."

"Water is the last thing I need," Gwen mutters. Gwaine hears this and snickers.

They dismount, and Arthur helps Gwen down from the wagon. Smith hops easily down, happy to run around a bit. Now fully grown, he is as high as his mistress's waist and wears a beautiful leatherwork collar embossed with the Pendragon crest at regular intervals.

"Smith," she calls, walking a distance into the woods, and the dog bounds after her, ever at her beck and call.

"Where's she going?" Merlin asks, and Elyan thumps him on the shoulder. "What?" he asks. Then, "Oh, 'stretch her legs.' Got it."

"For a wizard, you can be a bit dim," Elyan mutters, chuckling.

"Hey, my brain is busy with more important things!" Merlin calls after him, trying to defend himself.

Gwen checks that she is far enough away from the men and goes about her business, which is becoming steadily more awkward for her. Still she manages, thanking the gods once again for her life of servitude because it has given her a stronger body than most Ladies would have.

Smith is snuffling around in the underbrush, lifting his leg here and there on things that interest him. Gwen spies the stream, so she picks her way down, wishing for a small drink and maybe a little cool water on her face to freshen up a bit.

She reaches the bank and crouches as best she can, cupping some of the clear water in her hands.

Behind her, a twig snaps, and she turns her head. "Arthur?" she calls quietly. Then, "Leon? Elyan?" Nothing. "Gwaine? …Merlin?"

A gruff man appears, appraising her. "Sorry, love, I don't answer to any of them names," he says, stepping forward. "But I'm wishing that I did," he says, his eyes scanning up and down, resting only briefly on her pregnant belly.

Gwen says nothing, backing away from him, trying to appear calm. _You don't know that he's a bandit. The only thing he's done is look,_ she tells herself. _Looking at me like I'm his next meal,_ she realizes. She opens her mouth to call for help, and he stops her.

"Ah-ah, no need for that, my pretty," he says, stalking forward. "Wouldn't want one of your mates to surprise me and force me to do something… _rash,_ now, would you?"

She closes her mouth, eyes darting to the side briefly. She breathes.

"There, now, that's—aauurghh!" he screams as a giant grey beast lunges at him, toppling him over. Smith stands on the man's chest, baring his large teeth, his whole body rumbling with his menacing growl. Then he lifts his head and barks, loudly, several times.

"Get… off… me…" the man struggles, pushing at the solid wall of dog. Smith snaps at his hand, and he stops struggling, jerking his hand away just in time. The dog growls again, then sits, dropping his hind end right on the man's groin, and he yells in pain, trapped beneath 200 pounds of solid canine.

"Guinevere!" Arthur, Merlin, Leon, and Elyan come crashing down towards them now, swords drawn.

Arthur immediately rushes to Gwen; Leon and Elyan to the man pinned under Smith. "Thank you, Smith," Elyan says softly. Smith answers with a soft _woof_ and stands, steps off, and goes to Gwen.

"You: up," Leon commands, and the man stands. "Do you have any idea whom you just assaulted?"

"He didn't do anything Leon," Gwen says from the safety of Arthur's arms. "Not yet, anyway. Good boy, Smith," she coos to the dog, who is wagging his long tail at her, looking up at her adoringly.

" _Almost_ assaulted, then," Leon amends, holding the man at sword-point.

"No," the man croaks.

"This lady is your queen," Elyan tells him, lifting his chin proudly. He steps forward, his own sword threatening. "And my sister," he adds menacingly.

The man goggles, his mouth opening and closing, his eyes darting. They land on Arthur and, recognizing him, he drops to his knees. "Please have mercy, I didn't know… I didn't mean nothin'… I would never…"

"Would never what?" Leon presses. "Never have done what you almost did had you known she was the queen?"

He nods.

"Not good enough," he frowns. "How about never would menace a lady—"

"Especially one with child," Elyan interjects.

"—at all?" Leon finishes.

"Sire, what shall we do with this toad?" Leon asks.

"Hmm," Arthur thinks. He looks down at Gwen, traces her cheek with his finger, then steps over. "Lord Merlin, what do you think?"

"L-lord Merlin? The Royal Wizard?" the man stammers, now really afraid.

"Oh, so you aren't completely stupid!" Arthur declares. "You've heard that news, anyway."

"Well, we can't take him with us, obviously," Merlin muses, coming to join Arthur as the regard the man. "We could leave him here and pick him up on the way back. You know, tie him to a tree," he suggests.

"We'll be gone several days, Merlin," Arthur answers.

Gwen bends over Smith, kissing his head and giving him praise, hiding the fact that she is actually laughing now. Leon and Elyan step back, clenching their jaws shut as well.

Merlin shrugs. "He'd learn."

"What else you got?"

"Well, I could turn him into—"

"No!" the man interrupts, "don't turn me into anything. I don't want to be a… frog, or a… spider… or…"

"Newt? I could use some fresh eye of newt, you know," Merlin says, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"No, please!" the man grovels. "I'll be good! I'll… find honest work… I'll never do nothin' bad again…"

"What is your name?" Arthur asks.

"Brockton, my lord."

"Get out of my sight before I change my mind," Arthur growls. "If we ever cross paths in this manner again…" he leaves the threat dangling.

"Yes, my lord. I mean, no, my lord. I mean…"

"Go," he snaps. The man scrambles to his feet and flees.

Arthur turns. "Guess that dog is worth keeping around after all," he says. "Come on, let's get moving." He holds his hand out for Gwen, and she takes it, allowing him to help her back up the slight hill to the road, where Gwaine is waiting with the horses and wagon.

"Eye of newt?" Arthur asks as they walk.

"Wizarding joke," Merlin says, as if that explains everything.

"I still don't understand him half the time," Arthur mutters to Gwen, and she giggles. "You're okay, then?"

"Yes, Arthur, I told you, I'm fine."

"I knew I should have come with you," he says, frowning.

"Smith was with me. Four-legged Knight of Camelot," she smiles at him.

"I know," he sighs. He looks down at the dog, watching as he sniffs the air around them. _I wonder what goes on in that head of his?_ he finds himself wondering. "Good boy," he says, scratching him behind the ear.

xXx

"I know this inn," Leon says as they dismount. "Bors and I stopped here to inquire about you after you'd fled," he explains.

Arthur looks at Merlin. "What's the harm, you asked?"

"I didn't know Leon had been here!" Merlin exclaims.

"Wait, so you three _were_ here?" Leon asks. "They lied to me…"

"No, they didn't," Merlin says. "I enchanted them. Mixed up our looks in their memories. They didn't lie. Not to their minds, they didn't."

"And now he's going to fix it, right, Merlin?" Arthur asks, stepping over to help Gwen from the wagon again.

"Yeah, yeah…" he mutters, then walks to the window, peeking in. They are both inside, within view. Merlin thinks a moment, then closes his eyes. He mutters a few words, his eyes open with a flash, and he turns back to the group. "Okay. Let's see if it worked."

"Ah, nothing like confidence in one's abilities," Gwaine laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

"You go first," Arthur says, pushing Merlin lightly to the door.

"Don't need to shove, I'm going," Merlin complains, opening the door.

The innkeeper's wife gasps, clapping her hands over her bosom. "Eldon! Look who it is!" she exclaims, rushing over to Gwen, who hugs her warmly. "Look at you, Lamb, all ripe with child," she says, her eyes growing slightly misty. "And so finely dressed!"

"Hollis, don't gush," the innkeeper says, starting forward and stopping. "Wait," he blinks. "You… you're that knight. The one looking for the prince…" He blinks at Leon, confused.

"Merlin," Arthur says in his Warning Voice.

"Ah, let me explain," Merlin steps forward.

"Still too thin," Hollis mutters, but she is still smiling.

"Hang on," Arthur interrupts. He turns to the innkeeper. "You have rooms?"

"Of course, you are always welcome here… you know, I never did catch your name, son."

"I never gave it, and it was intentional. Forgive me," Arthur says. "I'm Arthur Pendragon."

"Prince— I mean, King Arthur? I thought… we thought…" Eldon stammers.

"Merlin will explain everything shortly," Arthur smiles, clapping the confused innkeeper on the shoulder. "But I want to secure some rooms first."

"Of course. How many?"

"We'll double up, my lord," Leon offers.

"Three, then. And we'd appreciate privacy. I will of course make it worth your while," Arthur says.

"Three it is, then. Hollis…" the innkeeper is about to tell his wife to flip the _vacancy_ sign to _no vacancy,_ but when he looks up, she has already done it.

"If you'll set us up with some refreshments, Lord Merlin here will enlighten you," Arthur says, removing his cape and sitting at a table.

They sit, and Hollis fusses over them like they are her children returned home, particularly Gwen and Merlin.

"Well, when we last stayed here, we were, in fact, fleeing Camelot…" Merlin begins.

He tells of Gwen and Arthur's love, which delights Hollis. Of Morgana's treachery, how she framed Gwen, which infuriates Hollis. Their escape. The innkeeper and his wife refuse to believe that Merlin is a wizard until he bangs the shutters on the windows and blows the corks off of several bottles.

Merlin tells some of their life in Lyonesse; how Arthur was a terrible farmer. He even explains to them how they were able to lie to Leon and Bors.

"And how fares Sir Bors?" Eldon asks, setting another tankard in front of Gwaine.

"Sir Bors fell in the battle for Camelot," Elyan explains sadly.

"Oh, I am sorry," the innkeeper apologizes.

"He died nobly," Leon says. "He died saving his kingdom."

So Merlin launches into the tale of the battle, then, how Lancelot and Percival came to help; how Arthur knighted them.

"Where are these other two?" Hollis asks, frowning. Clearly she wishes to meet all of them.

"They lost the toss and had to stay back in Camelot to keep an eye on things there," Gwaine says. He winks at her and she giggles like a maid, causing her husband to sigh and roll his eyes.

"Honestly, Hollis, you could be his mother," he huffs.

"Well it's not like you pay me any mind any more," she shoots back.

" _Anyway,_ " Merlin interjects, steering the conversation back, "Lady Morgana had gone quite mad, and—"

"Oi! Eldon!" There is a voice outside and pounding on the door. "Open up! Do you know there's a donkey sitting out here? What's going on?"

"Excuse me," the innkeeper stands and goes to the door, opening it a crack. "I'm closed, Robert," he snaps.

"Who're they, then?" Robert motions to the group seated inside, chatting.

"Private party. I'm closed up tonight. What was that about a donkey?"

Robert steps back and points to Smith, sitting attentively outside the door.

"That's a dog, idiot," Eldon says, then turns. "Excuse me, but did you bring a dog?"

"Yes, he's mine," Gwen says. "Is he being a bother?"

"No, just this fool thinks he's a donkey, that's all."

"Well, he's nearly as big as one," Gwen chuckles. "He's my bodyguard." Her eyes flit briefly to Arthur, and the fleeting image of two large donkey ears sprouting from either side of his head flashes across her memory. Arthur gives her a look that clearly says _Not a word, woman. We agreed._

"Who is she that she needs a guard dog?" Robert asks. "She's very pretty." He cranes his neck, trying for another look.

"She ain't for your piggy eyes, Bob. Besides, she's married and her husband wouldn't think twice about breaking your arm for less. Not to mention whatever it is that dog there is capable of. Now _go away._ "

"But…"

"Closed. Bugger off."

Robert finally relents, stomping away, muttering something that sounds like, "No need to be rude."

Eldon turns around to see his wife standing there with a bowl of water and the bone from a lamb shank she had made a stew of.

"For the dog," she says, thrusting it at her husband.

He takes it and regards the beast. "Um… here," he says, setting it down about halfway between them. He knows the dog is Gwen's protector, but he doesn't know if the dog knows that he means her no harm.

Smith's tail thumps a couple times and he lopes over, lapping the water up greedily, sloshing it everywhere. In seconds, the bowl is empty.

"I'll just… refill that, then," Eldon says, reaching slowly down. Smith nudges the bowl towards him with his nose, and Eldon jumps in surprise. As he reaches for the bowl, Smith licks his hand in a friendly way.

"Okay," Eldon says, relaxing. He quickly refills the bowl and returns it to the dog before rejoining the group, now being served the aforementioned lamb stew.

Merlin continues his tale, continuing with the battle, only now the other men constantly interrupt him, excited to recount the adventure.

xXx

"If you need anything at all, let me know. I know sometimes when you're expecting you get cravings for certain things, so…" Hollis tells Gwen outside their rooms.

"Thank you, Hollis, I'm sure I'll be fine," Gwen says, smiling at the kind woman.

"Queen of Camelot," Hollis remarks, still trying to get over the news.

"I'm still the same girl that was here all those months ago," Gwen reassures her, patting her hand.

"No, dear, you're not," Hollis disagrees. "Well, you are, but you are… _more_ than you were before, if you take my meaning."

"Do you have children, Hollis?" Gwen asks.

"I did, once," she says, her eyes getting a faraway look about them. "I had a son. He was beautiful and sweet. Smart as can be."

"What happened to him?"

"Died of fever one terrible winter," Hollis says. "Never was able to have any more; I was already old when I had him," she adds. "Eldon and me, we got a late start," she chuckles.

"I'm so sorry," Gwen says, squeezing her hand now.

"Thank you, dear. Oh, I probably should address you as 'my lady,' shouldn't I?" she asks, slightly flustered.

"Hollis, if it weren't for your hospitality, I wouldn't even be here," Gwen says. "You may address me however you like."

"Well, my hospitality and your wizard friend," Hollis corrects, chuckling again.

"Guinevere, are you going to stand in the corridor chatting all night?" Arthur's voice calls out from the room. It is the same room they had last time; Hollis had made certain of that.

"Be right there," she answer. "No patience at all, that one," she mutters conspiratorially.

Hollis shrugs. "He's a man, even if he is a king."

Gwen laughs, then hugs the older woman. "Thank you, Hollis. You and Eldon have both been wonderful."

"My pleasure, Lamb. Now go tend to your husband."

"Hollis?" Gwen asks, and the other woman turns back.

"Yes?"

"What was his name? Your son?"

"Llacheu," she says, smiling sadly.


	17. Chapter 17

"Merlin, where are you going?" Gwaine asks, sitting up from where he was lounging on his bed, an inexplicable chicken leg in his hand.

"Where'd you get that?" Merlin answers, slinging a leather satchel over his shoulder.

"Answer my question first," Gwaine demands, taking a bite of his chicken.

"I'm going out. Now how did you get that leg?"

"You call that an answer? Hollis gave me this chicken, obviously. Now where. Are you _going?_ "

Merlin sighs. "I'm going to meet Odras."

"The druid?"

"Yes. I'm going to return the Cup of Life to him for safekeeping."

"Does Arthur know?" he asks carefully.

"Of course he knows," Merlin says, rolling his eyes.

"Good. Carry on, then," Gwaine says, waving the chicken leg at Merlin, dismissing him.

"I shouldn't be too long," Merlin says.

"How are you going to find him?" Gwaine asks.

"Um, he already knows I'm here and that I have something for him," Merlin says elusively.

"Right. Magic thing."

"Don't wait up," Merlin tells him before sweeping from the room.

"I won't," he shoots back, and Merlin snorts, closing the door.

Merlin heads out into the cool spring night, heading for the woods. He just crosses into the trees, and he hears it.

_Emrys._

"Here," Merlin says aloud, his eyes scanning the darkness.

"Emrys," Odras speaks, emerging onto the path. "Walk with me."

"Okay," Merlin responds, falling into step beside the Druid.

"You have something for me," Odras says, not really asking.

"You know what it is?" Merlin asks.

"I do."

"Will you take it?"

"I will. It is an item that should not fall into the wrong hands again. We regret that it happened once; it is not an error that will be repeated," he says sternly.

Merlin starts to reach into his bag, and Odras stops him. "Not here. I will tell you when I will take it."

"Okay."

They walk quietly for several minutes, listening to the night.

"How fares the baby?" Odras asks suddenly.

Merlin looks at him, surprised, but he quickly realizes that he shouldn't be. "He is thriving. Queen Guinevere is healthy and strong," he answers.

"Her babe will be healthy and strong," Odras nods slowly.

"And Gwen?" Merlin asks quietly, voicing the fear that he knows Arthur has buried deep down inside.

"She will thrive, Emrys. Tell your king that he need not fear. The fate visited upon his mother will not be repeated with his wife."

"He doesn't know, Odras," Merlin says. "He doesn't know the truth."

"Pity. He should be told."

"Morgause tried, but…"

"Morgause was a twisted, heartbroken witch with a twisted, heartbroken view of the world. Her words were true, but her intent was dark."

"I know. I had to lie to Arthur, tell him that Morgause lied, to stay his hand. He had Uther at sword-point."

"I see."

"I'll mention it to Gaius. He should be the one to impart that news. He was there."

"Gaius is a good man. It pleases me that he remains in Camelot. Ah, here," Odras motions to a cave, indicating that Merlin should enter.

Merlin goes in, and Odras appears at his side with a torch no doubt lit by magic. They walk a short distance in, and Odras stops near several openings leading to various paths within the cave.

"I will take the Cup," Odras says. Merlin digs into his bag and pulls out a cloth-wrapped bundle. "Do not unwrap it, it is better that it remain shrouded."

"Here," Merlin hands him the bundle. "I feel better already," he sighs. "I have enough to worry about without that being under my care as well."

"Indeed, young warlock," Odras agrees, smiling slightly. "You have been given a great honor and a great burden all at once."

Merlin nods. "I know."

"The young king is wiser than he often appears, it seems."

"Gwen helps," Merlin chuckles, "she is very wise."

"Indeed," Odras nods. "As I said, the young king is wiser than he appears. His choosing Guinevere as his wife and queen was wise. Trusting you was wise. Knighting those men, also wise."

"Why do I feel there's a _but_ coming on?"

"Because there is. But he sometimes forgets to listen. Forgets to trust. Falls back into his old habits."

"Yeah," Merlin says, chuckling some.

"It is your job, and Guinevere's, as his advisor and his queen, to keep him on the correct path. To not let him fall into old habits. He must not rule Camelot by his father's example."

"I think he knows that," Merlin answers, nodding, looking off in the distance. "In fact, I know he does."

"Your certainty gives me hope, Emrys."

"I thought you could see the future?"

"I see many futures, Emrys. Humans are tricky animals you know. When we were made, we were all given a curse veiled in a gift."

"What's that?"

"Free will."

"Oh. That," Merlin says, agreeing.

"Yes. Choices, Emrys. It is man's ability to choose that renders the future mysterious and ever-changing."

Merlin nods.

"It is time for you to return to your friends, Emrys," Odras says, dismissing him kindly.

"Can I ask a question before I go?"

"Of course."

"Do you know a Druid boy called Mordred?"

"Ah, Mordred. He appears, he disappears. He is gifted, but mercurial."

"Yes, that's him," Merlin nods. "I… I feel as though I need to make peace with him."

"You do."

"You know what happened?" Merlin asks, surprised.

"I do not. Mordred's mind is a locked chest. His thoughts are closed to all save those he allows in. But if you feel you need to make peace with him, then you must do so."

"Do you know…"

"No, I do not know where he is. The matter seems to be between the two of you," Odras says. He closes his eyes. "One future is very bleak for Arthur and Camelot if the rift between you is not mended. I see only that much."

"Thank you, Odras," Merlin says, touching the man's arm.

"No, Emrys, thank you."

xXx

"What were you and Hollis talking about out there?" Arthur asks, pulling Gwen into his arms. He closes the door and locks it, and they laugh when the blue line of light traces the room, encapsulating them in silent privacy.

"This and that," Gwen answers with a shrug. "Babies. Men. You know."

"Actually, no, but I don't think I really want to know," he says, leaning down to nuzzle her neck, nosing her hair out of the way to reach the skin on her neck with his lips.

"I thought you were worried about meeting King Marke," Gwen says, her voice slightly breathy.

"I am," Arthur murmurs against her skin, his fingers pulling at the ties on her bodice now, "that's why I need you to help me forget my worries."

"Oh," she breathes, blindly unbuckling his belt, tossing it aside. His lips find hers now and they spend a few indulgent moments lost in kisses before he bends and sweeps her up into his arms.

"Arthur! I'm too heavy!" she protests.

"Guinevere, you weigh no more than a child to me," Arthur argues, demonstrating his point by walking around the entire small room before depositing her gently on the bed.

He kneels on the bed beside her, kissing her stomach reverently. Gwen closes her eyes and smiles, enjoying his ministrations.

"This comes off now," he mutters, pulling at her dress, and her simple traveling gown is shed in no time.

" _This_ comes off now," she repeats, yanking his shirt over his head. "And this," she says, opening his trousers.

Arthur pauses a moment to gaze down at his wife, her breasts slightly fuller now, her belly growing larger every week (or so it seems) as his child grows within her.

"My beautiful wife," he whispers, skimming his hand over her bare stomach, feeling her soft skin with his fingers.

"I'm glad you still think so, Husband," she answers, placing her hand over his.

"Why would I think you are anything less than the most beautiful woman in the five kingdoms? No. The world."

Gwen smiles, but he knows her troubles, and leans down to kiss her belly, this time on her warm skin.

"This," he says, grazing her skin with his lips, "only makes you more beautiful, makes me love you more. It is my love for you, on display for all to see. It is some of me and some of you, together. Our future. Forged by our love."

"Oh, Arthur," she sighs, running her fingers into his hair as he works his way north, kissing higher, taking care to stay to the side so he doesn't crush her.

"So not a word about it. It's not fat. It's our son."

"Or daughter," she reminds him, smiling.

"Or daughter," he repeats, rolling his eyes slightly before pressing his lips against hers again.

"It's also proof of your potency as a man and a king," she says, grinning against his lips.

"Yes, well, there is that, too," he admits, grinning arrogantly down at her for a moment before recapturing her lips. He rolls them as they kiss, pulling her up on top of him so she is sitting astride his stomach.

"So we don't crush baby," he whispers, pulling her lips down to his again, nibbling lightly on her lower lip before she loses patience with him and plunges her tongue into his mouth, kissing him deeply.

Arthur's hands rove the familiar contours of Guinevere's body, humming with the pleasure of her soft skin beneath his rough hands. He runs them up and down her back, down to caress her backside. He squeezes and she giggles.

"Arthur…"

He squeezes again, just to hear her giggle more.

"Stop that!" she giggles into his neck.

He moves his hand just slightly, sliding down and around until his fingers make contact with her wet center, and her giggles stop abruptly, replaced by a gasp of pleasure.

"Oh," she sighs, taking his earlobe gently between her teeth, sucking it into her mouth for a moment. He slips a finger inside her and she moans into his ear. He withdraws it and slips two fingers in now, and she bites his earlobe just enough to draw a gasp from him in return.

"Guinevere," he whispers her name, removing his fingers now to grasp her hips, moving her into position over him. She reaches down and takes his shaft in her hand, sliding her palm along his length a few times. "Oh…"

She holds him and slides down over him, sitting upright over him, her head dropping back at the sensation as he fills her. His hands slide up her body to gently caress her breasts, his thumbs softly skimming over her stiff nipples as she moves up and down over him.

"Mmm," Gwen pushes her chest forward into his hands, telling him he doesn't have to be so gentle.

Arthur lifts up on his elbows and Gwen leans forward so he can kiss her breasts, running his tongue around each nipple in turn, still treating them gently, with care.

"More, Arthur," she moans, holding his head, pressing it against her, egging him on, moving faster, more forcefully.

"Oh," he grunts, a little surprised at his wife's boldness, but too lost to question anything at the moment. He suckles more ardently at her breast then, and is rewarded with a delicious whimper.

"Yes…"

She grips his head, riding him, and soon they are moving so swiftly that he tears his lips away from her breast only out of necessity, because he can't keep up.

"Guinevere," he gasps, sitting further up to claim her lips, kissing awkwardly, sloppily as she bobs up and down astride him.

Gwen gasps and whimpers again, her fingers gripping his hair, tangling in the golden threads, pulling.

"Ah," he complains, but it is immediately forgotten when she cries out his name and throws her head back, shattering around him beautifully.

Arthur pushes his hips up, meeting her forcefully, deeply a few more times, then collapses back onto the pillows with a groan as his release renders him weak, unable to hold his torso up anymore.

She collapses over him with the same grace with which she does everything, disconnecting them softly, curling herself against him.

"What was that?" Arthur finally asks.

"Was it—?"

"No, I'm pleased… _very_ pleased. I'm just surprised," he chuckles.

"Must be the changes in my body due to the baby," she shrugs, sleepy now, groping for blankets.

"Mmm, will have to keep you pregnant all the time," Arthur purrs, gathering her to him.

"I think that might be a bit inconvenient, not to mention nearly impossible," she says.

"Ah, Guinevere, always so practical."

xXx

They ride out the next morning, Gwen in the wagon with Smith again, waving fondly to Hollis and Eldon. Eldon is smiling from ear to ear, his purse having grown very fat indeed, while Hollis is trying unsuccessfully not to cry.

"We'll be back on our way home," Gwen promises, and Hollis gives up trying to hold in her tears.

They approach Cornwall shortly before lunch.

"This is odd. No scouts," Leon observes as they draw close. "There should be scouts to meet us by now to announce our arrival."

They ride through the town, smiling at the somewhat-interested citizens, still somewhat puzzled at the seeming lapse in protocol until they reach the castle gates and enter the courtyard.

There is no one there to greet them.

"Did you send him the wrong day, Merlin?" Arthur asks, annoyed, dismounting. Finally a few stablehands come forth to attend the horses, and Gwen gives instructions for them to proved food and water to Smith as well.

"No, Arthur, I'm positive I told him today," Merlin answers.

"So what now?" Gwaine asks.

"I guess we go find King Marke," Arthur says with a shrug.

The confused party enters the throne room to see King Marke reading a parchment. Arthur clears his throat and Marke looks up from his reading, his face impassive.

"Greetings, King Marke," Arthur says, then pauses. "I fear I must apologize. Was my communication unclear, my lord, were you not expecting us today?" he asks politely.

"I was expecting you, but I did not formally greet you," King Marke answers, his voice just edged with disdain. "In my estimation, a king that knights commoners and marries a serving girl does not merit a formal welcome."

This stops them in their tracks. The three knights' hands automatically go to hilts, but Arthur holds up his own hand, staying them. "Well, then, it seems we have made this journey only to be insulted. It saddens me that you feel this way, Sire. There is no point in remaining, then, and I will be saying nothing else save good day to you," Arthur says. His voice is calm, but Gwen and Merlin can both feel the anger and embarrassment radiating from his tense body.

"Come," Arthur commands, turning on his heel.

"Well done, Arthur," King Marke's voice, now sounding lighter, warmer, stops them in their tracks.

Arthur turns, confused. "Excuse me?" he asks.

"Forgive me, but often I have found that the best way to take the measure a man is to make him angry," Marke explains, frowning apologetically as he stands and walks to them. "Push him and see if he _reacts_ or if he _acts._ "

"And?" Arthur asks, narrowing his eyes slightly, still somewhat angry but mostly confused. And intrigued. Gwen reaches for his hand, squeezing it gently.

"When I last saw you, you were but a boy of twelve and very… rambunctious," Marke starts to explain.

"You are being kind," Arthur says, smirking.

"Yes," Marke agrees with a chuckle. "But I am beyond pleased to find that you have grown into a fine man," he appraises. "A man brave enough to make bold moves like placing value on the common man and marrying for love rather than strategy. I hope to be able to tell people that I am proud to know you and call you my ally, Arthur." Marke extends his hand to Arthur; an invitation.

Arthur clasps forearms with the other king, "And so you shall, if I may do the same," Arthur answers.

"On the condition that you introduce me to your beautiful queen," Marke says, smiling at Gwen.

"Of course," Arthur smiles. "King Marke of Cornwall, my wife, Queen Guinevere of Camelot," he introduces, placing his hand on the small of her back as she holds her hand out to the king.

Marke takes her hand and kisses it respectfully. "My lady, it is an honor."

"It is I who am honored, my lord. And do please forgive my appearance. We have been traveling and I have not had the opportunity to freshen up," she apologizes.

"Nonsense," Marke dismisses her apology with a wave. "True beauty shows through regardless of its wrappings." He smiles down at her. "Though, Arthur, I must say I am surprised you allowed her to make the journey while she carries your heir."

"My Guinevere is very convincing, Marke," Arthur says with a smile.

"Yes, I imagine she is," he chuckles, and Gwen blushes.

Merlin politely clears his throat.

"Ah, King Marke, allow me to present the rest of our party. Sirs Leon, Gwaine and Elyan," he introduces, and the knights nod respectfully. "And Lord Merlin, Court Sorcerer and royal advisor."

"Yes, yes, I've heard about you," Marke says, looking at Merlin, who is dressed in his old servant's clothes for ease of travel. "You don't look much like a wizard, though."

Merlin chuckles. "I look like the king's manservant, right?" he grins, and Marke nods. "That's because I used to be his manservant. I find it's easier to travel in these old clothes instead of my new ones."

"Trust me, he's a force to be reckoned with," Gwaine speaks up from behind Merlin, and the other two knights nod.

"Mmm. Interesting. I am very interested to hear about Camelot's new laws regarding magic. As you know, Cornwall has no such regulations, but I am curious nevertheless. But that's for later. Surely you wish to freshen up," he glances at Gwen now, "and perhaps have a bite of lunch before we meet and discuss matters."


	18. Chapter 18

"Fergus," Marke says, motioning with his hand, and a hidden man steps out from the shadows.

Arthur and his party stare. This man would have had to be hidden for them to not have noticed him before.

"My guard captain and personal bodyguard, Sir Fergus," Marke introduces, standing. Only now do they see that the king leans heavily on a cane, explaining why he needs a bodyguard.

Fergus' height is the only unremarkable thing about him. He is average-sized, about the same height as Gwaine. But long, unruly, flame-colored hair sprouts from his head atop a face that, while not handsome in any way, has a twinkle in its eyes that makes him compelling to watch. There are also blue markings on one side of his face that must be some kinds of tattoos, so ingrained into his skin are they. He is wearing a sleeveless leather jerkin, thick, and his bare, muscular arms are swirled with more blue tattoos. From his belt hang a sword and some kind of thick club. Most surprising of all is the fact that he appears to be wearing a skirt.

"Fergus, take the knights to the knights' quarters and find some beds for them," Marke orders.

"Aye, Sir," Fergus rumbles. He strides towards the three knights and remarks, laughing, "Ha' ye nae seen a man's knees before, then?" His accent is rolling and musical, almost sounding as though he has two tongues inside his mouth.

Gwaine is the first to laugh with the man, stating, "Merely surprised to see them, my friend. Lead the way." The four men exit the hall, chatting quietly. Suddenly there is a burst of laughter coming through the doors from the corridor, sounding mainly like Gwaine and Fergus. Gwen giggles and Arthur rolls his eyes.

Marke motions for Gwen, Arthur, and Merlin to follow him, and they are met by a maid in the corridor, who curtseys immediately.

"Lady Guinevere, this is Gemma. I have assigned her the task of being your lady's maid for your stay. She will show you to your quarters," Marke says.

"Thank you," Gwen smiles at the girl.

"Arthur," Marke motions for him to accompany him.

"Ah, my lord, my queen and I have grown accustomed to sharing rooms, if you do not mind," Arthur says clearing his throat slightly uncomfortably.

"Of course, how foolish of me," Marke smiles. "Married for love," he mutters, almost to himself. "In that case, we will all walk together."

They come to the large guest quarters, and it's apparent by how Gemma bustles around that this was the room intended for Arthur.

Gwen stops the maid, her hand on the girl's arm. "Don't go to any trouble, dear. Remember I was a maid myself."

"Yes, my lady," she nods, smiling.

"Lord Merlin, you will be just across the corridor," Marke motions out the door, and Merlin jogs across to dump his things in before returning to help Arthur and Gwen.

"You truly are a puzzling man," Marke comments, watching Merlin.

"I was his servant for several years," Merlin comments. "Old habits, they say," he shrugs.

"Yet you are a powerful wizard."

Merlin shrugs again, as if it is no big deal. "I am still just a man, and Arthur is my friend as well as my king, and I am still happy to serve him."

"Merlin is humble about his gifts, my lord," Gwen comments, walking past her friend to pat his shoulder.

"Perhaps you would favor me with a demonstration later?" the king asks hopefully.

"I'll see what I can do," Merlin smiles.

"I will leave you to unpack. Lunch will be within the hour."

"Thank you, Marke," Arthur says, nodding respectfully.

As Marke leaves, he turns and looks back a moment to see Arthur crossing the room. He passes his wife, and, almost absentmindedly reaches his arm out, caressing her stomach. She smiles warmly at him and Marke can feel the deep love crackling between them. He smiles wistfully and limps out into the corridor.

"Is there anything you require, my lady?" Gemma asks.

"At the moment, I should like to change into more suitable attire," she says, turning to the wardrobe where a beautiful green dress is already hanging.

"Yes, my lady," Gemma scurries over, following Gwen, attempting to reach the dress before Gwen does. She doesn't make it, and frowns.

"Sorry," Gwen smiles gently, handing the gown to the maid and stepping behind the changing screen.

"My lady?" Gemma asks quietly while she assists Gwen with her gown.

"Yes, Gemma?"

"Is what Lord Merlin said true? He was the king's manservant, and he actually is _friends_ with the king?"

From the other side of the screen, she gets her answer.

"Merlin!" Arthur grumbles, annoyed.

"Sorry, Arthur."

"I _was_ going to wear that, you know, and now it's torn!"

Merlin huffs, exasperated. "You're such an infant sometimes," he moans. "Here."

It is quiet for a moment, then, Arthur's voice again, low. "Show-off."

"Cabbage Head."

"I believe that answers your question," Gwen says quietly, chuckling. She turns to see the girl looking quite scandalized.

"I can't believe that a king would let anyone talk to him like that!" she whispers.

Gwen smiles, patting the girl's hand. "It's a very long story, and you'll just have to trust me that Merlin has earned the right several times over. They are more than friends. They are brothers. Not by birth or blood, but by destiny."

Gemma blinks, trying to process the information, and Gwen fears she may have overloaded the girl. "Do not trouble yourself with it, dear. If Arthur was unhappy with him, we would all know," she chuckles again.

"Yes, my lady," Gemma curtsies again and follows Gwen out from behind the screen.

"Guinevere, you look stunning, my love," Arthur says, reaching for her just as Merlin is attempting to fasten Arthur's belt around his waist.

"Arthur…"

Arthur waves him off, choosing instead to nuzzle his wife's neck and kiss her cheek. He steps back to Merlin then. "Proceed," he says.

Merlin tosses the belt at him. "Do it yourself. I want to change," he says, striding from the room, leaving Gwen laughing, Arthur grumbling, and Gemma staring.

"Here," Gwen steps forward and takes the belt from his hands, and Gemma gapes more as she watches the Queen of Camelot assisting her husband with his garments.

"I think the poor girl may die of shock ere we leave," Gwen whispers, smoothing Arthur's shirt.

"Probably," Arthur agrees, then he smirks down at her.

"What are you up to?" she asks.

"Gemma, was it?" Arthur asks.

"Yes, Sire," she answers, curtseying again.

"Queen Guinevere will be wanting a hot bath after dinner tonight. Surely that can be arranged?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Oh, and see if you can have the largest tub you have brought in for her," Arthur says, and Gwen's eyes fly to his face.

_So that's what he's up to. Naughty, Arthur._

"Yes, Sire," Gemma answers again, bobbing another curtsey. "Um, if you will follow me, I will take you to the dining hall for lunch."

"Yes, of course. Lead on," Arthur says, following her into the corridor. He steps across to Merlin's room and bangs on the door. "Merlin! Hungry?"

The door flies open and Merlin comes skidding out, adjusting his robes. "Always," he answers, grinning at Gemma, who stares yet again at Merlin, looking much more like a noble wizard now.

xXx

"…and then I grabbed him by th' ears, gave him a solid nutter, and he collapsed like a sack o' tatties," Fergus is just finishing an apparently riveting story as Merlin, Arthur, and Gwen enter the all.

Gwaine is laughing, Elyan is smirking, and Leon look a bit lost.

"Nutter?" Leon asks.

"You know," Gwaine says, "when you do _this._ " He pantomimes, grabbing Leon's head and nodding his own down, connecting his forehead with the bridge of Leon's nose, but lightly.

"Oh," Leon says when Gwaine releases him. "That. Very unrefined fighting maneuver."

"But ye canna deny it's effectiveness," Fergus argues.

"Used it many times, myself," Gwaine comments.

"Explains a lot," Leon mutters to Elyan, who snickers.

"What are tatties?" Arthur asks, holding Gwen's chair for her.

"Potatoes," Gwen tells him.

"Ach, the wee queen is as sharp as she is bonnie!" Fergus declares, raising his goblet in her direction, and Gwen cannot help but laugh.

"Fergus was just telling the knights here how he came to be my guard and my lead knight. He saved my life," Marke explains. "Were it not for him, I wouldn't be using this cane, I'd be flat on my back in a stone box."

"Aye, the leg is all they got tae before I got tae them," Fergus nods.

"Them?" Arthur inquires.

"Cenred's men," Marke comments. Fergus spits on the floor, cursing them.

"Have you not heard, my lord? Cenred is dead. His brother, King Lot, now sits on his throne, and he has agreed to ally with Camelot," Gwen says.

"Oh? How did that news not reach my ears?" Marke asks. "How did Cenred die?" he asks leaning forward now.

The servants attend them, setting plates before Gwen first, then Arthur, then Marke, Merlin, and the knights.

"Horribly, by all accounts," Arthur answers. "Mmm, my favorite. Herb-roasted capon."

"Och, I should like the details," Fergus says, tearing into his meat.

"Sir Elyan, you were with that party, would you fill in King Marke and Sir Fergus?" Arthur asks.

Elyan gives them what details they could piece together, tactfully leaving out how Percival had nearly wept with relief to see his hated foe finally vanquished.

"He had been run through quite thoroughly and brutally," Elyan concludes. "We surmise that Morgause must have let loose a few of her 'immortal' soldiers on him by way of demonstration."

Marke glances at Gwen, slightly concerned at how she is faring with the grisly details that Elyan is unfolding. She seems unconcerned.

"Something troubling you, my lord?" Gwen asks, noticing his attention.

"It does not bother you? Hearing of battles and death over lunch?"

"My sister is made of stronger stuff than most," Elyan grins at her.

"Sister?" Marke asks, looking from Gwen to Elyan and back. "Ah, yes. I can see it now, in the eyes."

"Elyan is correct, I'm afraid," Gwen smiles. "I've assisted our court physician with too many battle wounds to be troubled by hearing about some blood." She takes a bite of meat, just to illustrate her point.

"I like this lass," Fergus comments quietly to his new friend, Sir Gwaine.

"She is truly something," Gwaine nods in agreement.

"Oh?"

"Well, she turned _me_ down, for one thing…" Gwaine says, winking at her across the table. He is rewarded with her rolling her eyes and laughing at him.

"Stronger stuff indeed," Fergus laughs now.

Elyan continues, going on to tell King Marke how Lot was a good man, day to Cenred's night, and only too happy to join forces with Camelot in alliance.

"Perhaps you should dispatch a messenger yourself," Arthur recommends.

"I might just do that," Marke muses.

They eat quietly (well, except for Fergus) for a bit. Gwen looks up, puzzling as though something has just occurred to her.

"My lord, may I ask you a question?" she says.

"Of course. And please, call me Marke."

"Thank you. My friends do call me Gwen, by the way."

"Well, then, what is your question, Gwen?"

"Did Cornwall have a queen? Forgive the impertinence of my question, but I see no sign of a lady's touch, and you've not mentioned children."

"It is a fair question," Marke sighs. "Cornwall's last queen was my mother."

"Guinevere, I don't know that…"

"It's all right, Arthur. I should like to tell her."

Arthur nods, acquiescing.

Gwen sets her fork down, giving Marke her full attention.

"I was betrothed once, to a beautiful princess from the north. Her name was Isolde. She was, as I said, beautiful, with golden hair, large blue eyes, and a deep musical voice, like rich velvet."

"What happened?" Gwen asks softly.

"Her father arranged our meeting. I was smitten immediately, and she seemed receptive to the marriage. She returned home, due to come back here a fortnight later for the wedding, a day ahead of her father. She never arrived."

"Did she die?"

"I almost wish that she had, sometimes," he sighs. "But no. The guard assigned to deliver her to me… she and him… they…"

"I'm sorry," Gwen says, clasping her hands over her heart.

"What did you do?" Arthur asks, and Gwen finds she is surprised to see him as interested in the story as she is.

"I rode out after them, of course," he says, taking a drink. "All we found was a valise of her things, scattered. Then we were set upon by bandits shortly after, and that's also where I met Sir Fergus."

"Never saw a more heartbroken man," Fergus frowns. "Was ready tae let the bandit run him through, ye ken."

"Yes," Marke chuckles, "at first I was angry with Fergus for saving my life, as I no longer wished to live it."

"But?"

"But then I took him out an' got him steamin' till he couldna remember his own name, and the dunderheed knighted me fer it!"

"Did you ever find her, ever hear of her?" Gwen asks, ignoring he revelry on the other side of the table.

"Last I heard they were going about as common smugglers," Marke says with a sad shrug. "When I think of all I could have given her, and she chooses to go off with that… Tristan fellow…"

"One cannot predict what the heart wants," Arthur says, feeling Gwen's small hand slip into his. "But I am sorry for your heartache."

"It is in the past," he says. "I hope she is happy with her choice, honestly, I do."

"But surely you could have sought out another," Elyan comments.

"Could have, sure, but I was heartbroken and maimed. Hardly a desirable choice in a husband. And, to be honest, I really wasn't interested in someone who merely wished to marry me because I am king."

"I can understand that," Arthur says.

"I thought you might." Marke gives him a knowing smile.

"So you know, then?"

"What, that the two of you ran off and eloped? Of course I did. Uther sent word that we were to keep a sharp eye out for the three of you."

Merlin laughs now. "We were actually in your kingdom for nearly three months, my lord."

"You were?"

"Lyonesse," Arthur tells him. "Under false names."

"Arthur was a lousy farmer," Gwen says, her lips twisting into a wry smile, and the men all laugh.

"Tell me, then, who will succeed you upon your passing?" Leon asks. Gwen looks over at him and is surprised to see that he appears moved by the tale of the king's lost love.

"I have a nephew. My younger sister's eldest. He is strong and wise. I have named him as my heir. He is questing after a dragon at the moment, though, so perhaps he is not as wise as I originally thought," Marke chuckles.

"Or perhaps not," Merlin interjects. "There is one dragon that yet remains in this land."

"Oh?" Marke turns and looks at him.

"Yes, and I do hope he does not harm your nephew."

"What?" Marke is confused now. Gwen hides her smile.

"The dragon is my friend, Sire. He means no harm to those that do not mean to harm him."

"Or you," Gwen adds.

"Or me," Merlin concedes.

xXx

"I should very much like to see your armory, Sir Fergus," Leon says as they walk to the fields.

"Aye, laddie, we can arrange that for ye," Fergus nods. "Like weaponry, do ye?"

"Leon is our weapons expert," Elyan says. "I was a blacksmith before I was a knight, and I couldn't keep him out of my forge half the time," he laughs.

"Which explains why Leon is yet unmarried," Gwaine remarks, and they all laugh.

"Better than chasing after anything in a skirt," Leon says, then hastily adds, "present company excepted."

"Och, this nae be a skirt, lad, this be a kilt!" Fergus proclaims. "The noble tartan of the clan McFeegle!"

"So, forgive my asking, but why are you all the way down here in Cornwall instead of up there," he nods north, "in Scotland?" Elyan asks the question that is on all their minds.

"I wasna happy," Fergus says curtly. "Come, I need tae show ye the training fields. I'd verry much like tae see what the famous Knights o' Camelot are made of, ye ken."

"Okay, then," Elyan mutters to Leon, and they two hurry to catch up with Fergus and Gwaine.

xXx

"So. You've legalized magic, then," Marke states, cutting right to the chase.

"Yes," Arthur answers casually.

"Because of you friend Merlin here."

Gwen's lips curve into a small smile, interested in how Marke doesn't exactly ask questions, he makes astute guesses.

"The people of Camelot owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to Merlin," Arthur answers. "Not only the people, but me as well."

"You are not afraid of things getting out of hand, like before?"

"I'm not so certain that they were all that out of hand, if I may say," Merlin says carefully.

"Merlin?" Arthur asks, puzzled.

"Look: people used magic for evil. However, people used magic for good and helpful purposes as well. Cannot the same be said of a sword?"

Arthur blinks at Merlin, surprised at his astuteness.

"Magic is no more inherently evil than is a sword. A sword, sitting on a table untouched, harms no one. Its power is in how it is wielded. In the hands of a bandit, it will hurt. In the hands of a noble knight, it will defend the weak or injured."

"Evil lies within the hearts of men, not in the tools they use," Gwen says quietly.

"Then why did Uther feel so strongly about banning it?" Marke asks, looking at Arthur.

Arthur doesn't answer for a bit. "I only know what I have been told all my life, just as anyone does. All my life I was told that magic and those that practice magic are evil and should be punished. Then Merlin comes along and challenges everything my father had taught me about magic. I mean, look at him. Does he look like a person with evil in his heart?"

Marke looks at Merlin, who, to his credit, does nothing beyond sitting there. He doesn't endeavor to make himself appear more innocent or good. He just is.

"Indeed not, my lord," Marke answers.

"So, to answer your question, I do not know exactly what motivated my father to place a ban on magic," Arthur concludes.

"Fear," Gwen says suddenly, surprising them all. Especially Merlin.

"Fear?" Marke asks.

"Yes, fear. Uther was afraid of the power wielded by those who used magic. He felt it was a threat to his own power. I do not know what motivated this fear, but he was a wounded predator when it came to magic. Backed into a corner, he knew no other way than but to lash out."

Arthur stares at his wife. _I knew she was smart, but I never realized just how smart until this moment._

"Gwen is right," Merlin says. "He was afraid. But there is more to it."

"What _exactly_ do you know, Merlin?" Arthur turns on him.

Merlin looks at his hands. "You will need to ask Gaius when we return to Camelot, my lord. He will tell you what you would like to know."

"Hmm," Arthur purses his lips together.

"Now is not the time for that story," Merlin finishes, looking pointedly at Arthur.

Gwen clears her throat politely, and presses on. "And that is why we've put Merlin in charge of, shall we say, magical law enforcement. We have a force for good on our side, and we'd be foolish not to use it to the advantage of the kingdom."

"Very shrewd," Marke says, still wondering at the exchange between Arthur and Merlin, but deciding to let it go for now. _Perhaps it is none of my concern._ "Your idea?" he asks Gwen, smiling.

"Arthur's," she smiles at him. "Though the position itself came from Merlin's brain."

"Um, actually, the entire job description came from Merlin's brain," Arthur admits. "I just enabled it by legalizing magic." He scowls now, feeling a little but like his wife and his former servant have mentally outclassed him.

"How did your council react to this?" Marke asks Arthur.

"Oh, God, let me tell you…" Arthur leans forward, rolling his eyes.

xXx

Arthur, Gwen, Merlin and Marke approach the training fields in time to see Sir Fergus facing down Sir Gwaine, surrounded by the rest of the men, cheering and surreptitiously placing wagers.

"All right, ye boggin dug, I'm tired o' dancin' wit ye," Fergus goads as the two men circle one another, swords at the ready.

"Make your move then, ya skirt-wearing ball of sheep dung," Gwaine shoots back smoothly.

"What happened here? They were getting along so well," Merlin comments.

"They still are, Merlin," Gwen says, noting the impish glint in Gwaine's eyes.

"Just goading each other," Arthur laughs. "One of Gwaine's strong suits."

"Ah, ya bastirt!" Fergus exclaims, Gwaine having just knocked him on the side of his head with his elbow.

"You put your head where my elbow was," Gwaine answers. Fergus laughs, lunging with his sword. Gwaine dodges him, rolling towards him, knocking the Scot off his feet.

"Woah!" everyone else choruses as Fergus lands face-first into the turf, and the unanswered question about what is beneath Fergus' kilt is answered.

Arthur puts his hands over Gwen's eyes, amused at how hard she is laughing.

Fergus rights himself, sees Gwen standing there, salutes her, and turns back to Gwaine as Gwen falls to laughing again.

"Aye, yer queen is a top lass, indeed," Fergus comments.

"Glad you think so, now that you've given her an eyeful," Gwaine chuckles.

"Ach, 'twas naught but me bum," he shrugs. "Now…" he strikes again, catching Gwaine uncharacteristically off guard, and the knight topples.

He laughs again and stands, flipping his hair away from his face. "You dirty…" he grins.

"Got tae take th'advantage while ye can, ye ken," Fergus winks.

"Indeed," Gwaine answers, and deftly disarms Fergus, catching the other man's sword in his left hand. He points both swords at Fergus.

"Show me how ye did tha'," Fergus says, wide-eyed. Gwaine hands him his sword, and loops his arm around the Scotsman's shoulders.

"Well, now, that would be tellin', wouldn't it?" he teases.

"Och, laddie, I must know! Dinnae make me beg!"

The two men laugh as the rest of the men close in around them, coins changing hands as they move.


	19. Chapter 19

"Thank you, Gemma, that will be all," Arthur tells the serving girl when Gwen comes out from behind the changing screen in her dressing gown, heading for the large tub filled with steaming water.

"My lord?" Gemma furrows her brows, confused.

"You may go, dear," Gwen says gently intercepting her husband. "I do not require any further assistance this evening."

The girl hesitates another moment, then her eyes widen and she flushes scarlet. "Thank you, my lady," she curtseys hurriedly and almost runs to the door.

"There is going to be some serious gossiping amongst the servants in Cornwall tonight," Gwen says, looking pointedly at Arthur, who is already shedding his clothes.

"I don't care," Arthur says, pulling his shirt off over his head. "I wish to bathe with my wife, and bathe I shall."

Gwen looks down at the tub. "This is a very large tub indeed," she observes, cocking her head at Arthur as he shucks his trousers and tosses them on a bench.

"Mmm," he agrees, stepping in and holding his hand out to Gwen. She removes her robe and takes his hand, climbing delicately into the tub.

Arthur sits down and she follows, sitting opposite him. He scowls at her. "Why are you over there?" he pouts.

"I don't know," she shrugs, running her slender foot up his thigh beneath the water. He inhales sharply and catches her foot in his hands. He starts massaging it gently, and she leans her head back with a sigh. "Ah, that's why," she smiles, closing her eyes.

"You could do mine as well," he offers, sticking his foot up out of the water. Gwen opens one eye and looks at it disinterestedly. "Or not," he chuckles, dropping it back below.

"I'll take it under advisement when you are carrying my child," she tells him. Arthur laughs, kisses the sole of her foot and then takes up the other one, giving it equal treatment.

"They are a little puffy, aren't they?" Arthur observes, noting some slight marks where her shoes were fitting a bit snugly.

Gwen just sighs, wiggling her toes while he rubs. He kisses each one as he finishes, then sets it gently back into the water. "Come over here now," he beckons softly.

She moves then, swishing the water slightly as she comes over, nestling herself between his legs, her back against his chest.

"I think King Marke was very impressed by you today, my love," Arthur says, kissing her ear.

"Do not underestimate yourself, my king," she answers, running her hands along his thighs while he absently caresses her stomach above and below the water.

"Yes, well, obviously I was in top form," he gloats, teasing, and she splashes him. " _But,_ you really showed him that you are so much more than just a beautiful face that caught my eye. He got to see your kindness and wisdom for himself, and he will help allay any rumors that might be floating around the land about the serving girl who has been made Queen. Merlin was quite impressive, too, I have to admit."

"We do what we do to aid you, Arthur. If we prove foolish, it reflects poorly on you."

"Well, then, I'm glad that I have not surrounded myself with fools," he says, grinning down at her. He reaches for the soap and the cloth and starts to gently wash Gwen, her back, her breasts, her stomach.

The baby kicks, and Gwen giggles. "Baby likes you taking care of me."

"Daddy likes taking care of you, too," Arthur mutters, his lips on her neck.

"Daddy?" she repeats, amused.

"Well, yes," he answers, peeking around at her and pecking her lips.

"I've just never heard you refer to yourself that way before," she says, kissing him back.

"Mmm, if this is how I am rewarded, I shall have to do so more often," he comments, diving back into her lips, reaching up to cradle her head to help support its awkward position. The soap and cloth drop from his other hand, forgotten.

xXx

"Thank you, King Marke, for your hospitality," Gwen bids the king farewell, Smith wagging his tail at her side.

"It was an honor and a privilege to have you both," Marke answers, kissing Gwen's hand before clasping arms with Arthur.

"Perhaps next time we shall have to keep closer tabs on Fergus and Gwaine," Arthur comments, as both knights look quite bedraggled this morning.

"Och, we jus' got a bit jaked, 'tis all," Fergus protests, "an' ye dinna have tae shout like tha'."

Gwen bites back her laughter.

"Yeah, no harm done. The tavern is almost completely still intact," Gwaine mumbles, his eyes bleary. "And Elyan here held his own as well—ow!"

Elyan smacks Gwaine on the back of the head when he receives a death glare from his sister. "I was never as bad as that lot," he protests, trying to paint himself in a better light.

"Hmm," Gwen says, glancing at Gwaine and scowling at him as well.

"I told ye we shouldna ha' brought your queen's brither, ye daft scunner," Fergus mutters to Gwaine.

"Shall we be off?" Arthur says, sighing despite the fact that he and Marke had been chuckling over the knights.

"Safe travels, Arthur," Marke says as they mount up and Arthur assists Gwen into her cushioned wagon. Arthur swats Smith lightly on the rump and he leaps up beside his mistress, curling up alongside her.

Instead of heading north, toward Camelot, they head southwest.

"Sire, Camelot is the other way," Leon points out, though he knows full well that Arthur is aware of this.

"We're not heading directly to Camelot, Leon. Guinevere wanted to return to Lyonesse, and so we will be paying our friends there a visit since we are so close."

"Heh," Leon chuckles. "If Bors and I had continued on the road from the inn, we would have run smack into you," he muses.

"And what would you have done had you found us?" Gwen asks, looking up at the tall knight.

"Stayed in your barn," Leon answers, laughing.

They reach the town just before noon, approaching their old house on the fringe. They see Fleta's younger brother Justin out in the field with their old ox, guiding the beast easily along the rows.

"Why does that thing behave for him?" Arthur grumbles. "He never could be bothered to walk two steps in a straight line for me."

Merlin laughs as Fleta steps outside, shaking a rug, snapping dust and bits of twig from it. Her eyes widen as she sees them approaching, and the rug falls into the dirt.

Gwen waves, smiling, her eyes dancing, and Fleta takes of at a run.

"Goldie!" she yells, excited. It is only then that they notice that Fleta appears to be just slightly less pregnant than Gwen.

The party stops outside the house and Arthur dismounts quickly to help his very excited wife down from her seat.

"Look at you!" Fleta exclaims, clearly indicating Gwen's swollen stomach.

"Look at _you!_ " Gwen shoots back, pulling the girl to her for a tight hug.

Fleta pulls away and finally _looks_ at them, and confusion clouds her face. "What…?"

"We'll explain everything, I promise," Gwen says, turning to see Justin approaching.

"Justin, fetch Mother and Father, quickly," Fleta says, "and Radley and Bartley and…"

"Yes, I got it: get everyone," Justin moans. He looks right and left, not knowing which way to go.

"Come on, Justin," Merlin beckons, holding his hand down. The boy climbs up behind him and they ride off.

"I was so pleased to get your message, Goldie," Fleta starts. She spots Gwaine, furrows her brows at his armor, but waves anyway.

"Hello, darlin'," Gwaine says, winking at her.

She blushes, her eyes darting to the other two.

"Fleta, you of course remember Gwaine," Gwen says. "This is my brother, Elyan, and this is Leon," she introduces.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Fleta says. Somehow she feels she should curtsey. She glances at Arthur and smiles warmly, but the compulsion to bend her knee is even stronger.

He smiles kindly at her. "May we go inside?" he asks.

"Oh! Of course, I am sorry…"

"No, it is we who should apologize, barging in unannounced like this," Arthur answers, bending to retrieve the dropped rug for her and giving it a shake before draping it over his arm.

Leon stares in disbelief.

Fleta serves some wine to her guests and puts down a bowl of water for Smith, who curls up at Gwen's feet after drinking his fill, politely not spilling much.

"Forgive me, Goldie, but I'm very confused," Fleta says suddenly, "you look so… different."

"Can we wait until everyone else arrives?" Gwen asks kindly. "Just so we do not have to explain twice, you see."

"Of course. When is your child due?" she asks instead, changing gears.

"About midsummer," Gwen smiles. "And yours?"

"Late summer," she giggles. "It seems the gods favored both of us early in our marriages," she says, blushing slightly.

"It does seem so," Gwen agrees.

Merlin and Justin come bursting into the house now, followed shortly by a crowd. Radley greets his wife warmly, his grey eyes twinkling as they look into her deep brown ones. He is followed by Sherman and Myla and, finally, Bartley and his wife, Hazel.

There is much noise and hugging, and finally everyone finds a corner to sit in.

"I must say we were all surprised by your sudden departure, Aldwin," Bartley starts. "Then Fleta read us your message, and the mystery only seemed to deepen," he chuckles.

"Fleta is the only one of us who reads well enough," Radley explains, his voice tinged with pride.

"I'm learning!" Justin pipes up.

"Yes, Love, we know," Myla says indulgently.

"Can we let our guests speak, please?" Sherman steers them back, eager for information.

"Guinevere?" Arthur says, inviting her to begin.

"First," she sighs, "when the three of us came here, we were fleeing. The two of us," she nods at Merlin, "for our lives, in fact."

She waits until the gasps die down.

"The names by which you know us are not our true names. My name is actually Guinevere, though most people call me Gwen. This is Merlin," she indicates the wizard, and he gives a small wave. "And my husband," she turns and smiles at him, "his true name is Arthur Pendragon."

The silence is deafening.

"So you're a king?" Justin is the first one to speak up. Quietly.

Arthur nods. "Well, when we came here, I was still just the prince."

" _Just_ the prince, he says," Sherman chuckles. "What's your real name, then?" he asks Gwaine.

"My name is really Gwaine," he chuckles. "Though I was acquainted with the three of them before I came here."

"If you're nobility, then why were you fleeing Camelot?" Radley asks.

"Ah, but that's just it," Gwen says. " _Arthur_ is nobility. Merlin and I, well, Merlin was Arthur's manservant. I was the Lady Morgana's handmaiden. Before she… turned."

"And he got you with child and you fled?" Sherman asks.

"Certainly not!" Arthur shouts, insulted that such a thing should even be suggested.

"Forgive me, my lord, it is just the first thing that comes to mind, is all."

Arthur nods and looks to Gwen.

"Uther had sentenced me to death. He believed I was a sorceress who enchanted Arthur with some kind of love potion."

"She didn't need any potion," Arthur comments dryly.

"And I am _not_ a sorceress," Gwen continues, looking sideways at Arthur.

"King Uther would not see that his son could love a serving girl," Myla says quietly, understanding. "So he naturally assumed that magic was at fault."

Gwen nods.

"I could not watch Guinevere be burned at the stake, I could not face the prospect of life without her," Arthur says quietly. "So we fled. Eloped, and landed here."

"So how does Marden – I mean, Merlin fit in?" Sherman asks.

"Well, Merlin helped me escape," Gwen says. "Because while I am not a witch, our Merlin _is_ a wizard. And a very good one, at that."

"Really?" Justin asks, eyes wide. "Do something!"

"Justin," Myla warns, but Merlin just smiles.

"It's all right, Myla. Here," Merlin holds out his hand, palm-up. His eyes flash and a flame dances in the middle of his palm.

"Whoa," Justin says, impressed. Merlin closes his hand around the flame and extinguishes it.

"We married the day we fled," Gwen says, "and met Sherman and Bartley on the road the next day."

"And the upheaval in Camelot, with the Lady Morgana, that sent you back," Bartley finally speaks again.

Arthur nods. "We were victorious, but it was costly." With some prompting from Bartley and Sherman, he tells them of the battle while Fleta, Myla, and Hazel bustle about preparing food.

"It is a very romantic story, the prince and the handmaid," Fleta says wistfully.

"Though not without its hardships," Gwen sighs. "But in the end, it was worth it."

"Was your father really a blacksmith?" Sherman asks her.

"That part was true," Gwen nods, smiling. "He was a blacksmith, as was my brother," she nods at Elyan. "Before he became a knight."

"See, that's what I can't get my brain around," Bartley says finally. "You were a maid, now you're the queen. Gwaine there and your brother are knights. I suppose you're a commoner as well?" he asks Leon.

"No, Leon is actually noble-born," Gwen smiles, explaining because Leon has his mouth full of stew.

"Gwen's mother was actually a maid in my household when I was a boy," Leon adds once he swallows. "We used to play together, us and Elyan, before any of us knew any better," he chuckles.

"Arthur is unusual in that he values people based on their character rather than on their birth," Gwen says.

"Something I would have never seen had it not been for Guinevere," Arthur smiles. "And Merlin," he grudgingly admits.

"Love will do that, make you see the world in a whole new way," Myla sighs.

"Well, actually, I didn't know I loved her when she started changing my point of view," Arthur says. "I probably _did_ love her, but I just didn't know it yet."

"Arthur, you hardly noticed me before that week," Gwen rolls her eyes at him.

"Oh, is that what you think?" he raises an amused eyebrow at her.

"That's what I _know,_ " she shoots back.

"Hmm," he smirks. "So, then, you _know_ that when you came to bring me food when my father had put me in the dungeon and I gave you that flower to save Merlin's life that I thought you were an angel sent by the gods in a golden dress? And you _know_ that when we went to Ealdor I was very nearly distracted by you with your bravery, not to mention in your little trousers and riding boots? And I suppose you also _know_ that it was your voice that gave me the will to fight for my life when I was very nearly dead?"

Gwen flushes dark scarlet, opens her mouth to speak, but promptly shuts it again. "I stand corrected," she finally says. _He remembers what dress I was wearing that night?_ she finds herself thinking.

"Sounds to me like your king there was smitten already before either of you were aware," Sherman chuckles.

"In any case, she started yelling at me," Arthur says, grinning devilishly. "Every time I…"

"Acted a prat," Merlin fills in.

"Thank you, Merlin," Arthur mutters. "And each time she challenged me to be a better person, it just made me love her more. She made me see that the worth of a person is more than just his name or title. I knighted four commoners before this latest battle, and they are four of the finest knights I have ever seen."

Gwaine coughs softly, looking at his shoes, the wall, the dog, avoiding everyone's eyes.

"Gwaine?" Arthur asks. "You have something to add?"

"No," he says, but he still looks troubled.

"Gwaine, tell him," Merlin pushes.

"Thanks, mate," Gwaine says sarcastically.

"Tell me what?" Arthur asks.

"I'm actually a noble. Well, my parents are nobles. I disowned them and renounced any claims to anything. But I am noble by birth."

"What?" Arthur and Leon chorus, both stunned.

"This, of course, was before I discovered that there are nobles in the world who are actually worthy of the title," Gwaine adds. "I would serve none but Arthur," he tells the group.

Arthur smiles. "And I am fortunate to have you as one of my knights."

"Of course, King Marke didn't seem too bad, either…" he muses.

"Oh, no," Gwen cuts him off. "You and Sir Fergus should be kept far apart."

"Ah, my lady, but Fergus and I are brothers now," Gwaine says, smirking impishly, removing his gauntlet. He pulls up his sleeve and reveals a very fresh-looking blue swirled tattoo, similar to the ones that Fergus has all over.

"When did you do that?" Elyan asks, stunned. Gwen bites back her chuckle and Arthur just rolls his eyes.

"Must have been after you passed out, lightweight," Gwaine says, pulling his sleeve back down.

xXx

Fleta invites them to stay the night, but they decline politely, wishing to return home as soon as possible. She and Gwen hug warmly, promising each other to correspond, especially when their respective children are born.

"You are sure there is nothing you left behind that you need?" Fleta asks one last time.

"No, Fleta, I said in my letter that everything in the house is yours, and I meant it," Gwen answers.

"Of course, you're a queen, you can surely have whatever you desire," Fleta says, smiling kindly.

"There are positives as well as negatives," Gwen shrugs.

"I still can't believe it," Fleta says.

"Neither can I," Gwen whispers in reply.

"Guinevere," Arthur says, holding his hand out for her.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Fleta," Gwen says once she's settled in the wagon, her dog at her side.

Arthur shakes all the men's hands and kisses the women's hands as if they were ladies of the court. Myla and Hazel fuss over him, giggling and simpering like girls.

"You are all always welcome in Camelot should you ever feel the desire to make the trip. Justin, you're a little old to start training, but if you fancy being a knight…"

"Thanks just the same, my lord, but I've discovered I'm a much better farmer than I am a shepherd, and I do rather enjoy farming," Justin smiles.

"Thought I'd offer. You should always do what makes you happy," Arthur says, swinging into his saddle.

They bid a final farewell to their friends, and head north, for Camelot.


	20. Chapter 20

_Emrys._ The voice sounds in Merlin's head and he looks about, searching with his eyes and his gift. He recognizes the voice, and it sends the slightest chill through him.

 _Mordred?_ he calls back.

_Yes, Emrys. I understand you wish to speak with me._

"Arthur," Merlin calls, catching up to Arthur. "I… I need to go on an errand."

"An errand, Merlin? We're nearly home!"

"Just came up."

"How could it 'just come up?' We've been riding all morning."

"Arthur, is something wrong?" Gwen asks. She'd actually been dozing in her wagon, not having slept well the night before thanks to an active babe and an amorous husband.

"Nothing, Love, Merlin just needs to dash off on an 'errand' suddenly."

"Very good, carry on, then," she answers sleepily, laying her head back down against Smith's warm body.

"Just trust me, Arthur, I'll be fine. Um, wizard thing, you know."

"You're not going to see the dragon, are you?"

"No. Someone else."

"And you're not going to tell me who," Arthur says, not asking.

"No. Not right now."

"Fine, go," Arthur waves, but Merlin is already turning his horse.

"I wasn't asking permission," he shoots back over his shoulder.

In the thick of the wood, Merlin finds Mordred in a small clearing in the middle of a circle of tall pines. He is older, a boy on the cusp of manhood, his bearing as eerily still as ever, his bright blue eyes still large and piercing.

"Emrys," the boy speaks aloud.

"I think that is the first time I've heard you speak, Mordred," Merlin says, climbing down from his horse. "Are you alone here?"

"No," Mordred turns his eyes to the edge of a clearing, where Merlin can make out the shape of a woman in the shadows. He cannot see her, but she appears older, motherly, yet stern.

"Mordred, I…"

"I know why you have sought me out, Emrys."

"I would like to say it all the same," Merlin says. "Please allow me to do you the courtesy."

Mordred nods, the slightest gesture.

"I am sorry, Mordred, for the things I have done that have hurt you, be they unintentional or purposeful. I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I ask for it all the same," Merlin says, looking down at the boy.

"Thank you, Emrys, your words are true. You turned your back on my once, but you also helped to save my life," he says, holding out his hand. "It is for that reason I forgive you, but also another."

Merlin takes it and grasps it warmly between both of his. "Arthur has restored magic to Camelot," he says, figuring that to be the other reason.

"No, Emrys, _you_ have restored magic to Camelot," Mordred says. "And have gained a great responsibility as well."

Merlin nods. He regards the boy a moment. "Will you come to Camelot, Mordred? I should like your help. And companionship. I think we could learn a great deal from one another."

"Indeed we could, Emrys. But now is not the time. When I am older, a man, I will come to Camelot."

"I will wait for your arrival," Merlin says, smiling.

Mordred smiles a very small, very enigmatic smile. "Your deeds have altered my destiny, Emrys. Do you know this?"

"No," Merlin says, intrigued. "How did I do this?"

"It was foretold that King Arthur was to die at my hand. This future no longer exists."

Merlin gasps. "Kilgarrah did once say that you were destined for darker things…"

"The Dragon was correct, at that time. But the destruction of the witches combined with magic being restored to Camelot and your simple apology just now have altered the course of my destiny, and for that, I thank you."

"You're welcome…" Merlin answers, still a bit puzzled.

"I have no desire to take another's life, Emrys. That is the other reason why I have granted my forgiveness."

"Thank you," Merlin replies. "I would not have liked for your path to have led there."

"I will come to Camelot," he repeats. "Later."

Merlin nods. "It was… nice to see you, Mordred. Thank you for allowing it."

"Odras is friend to both of us. Thank you for seeking me out. You will not see me again until I come to Camelot."

"I understand," Merlin says.

"Farewell, Emrys," Mordred says.

"Farewell," Merlin answers, guiding his horse from the clearing. He looks over his shoulder and the clearing is gone; there are only trees.

xXx

Gwen sits quietly by the window, sewing a small set of clothes for the baby. Arthur had frowned over this at first, but Gwen held firm.

_"Needlework is a perfectly acceptable activity for a Queen, Arthur," she had said. "Besides, I'm bored. My hands are not used to being idle."_

_Arthur sighed and smiled down at her, stroking her pouting lower lip with his thumb. "Very well," he said. "I am unable to deny you anything, anyway," he added. "I'm sure I can find a use for those idle hands," he muttered under his breath, but Gwen still heard him and rewarded him by throwing a cushion at his head._

In the days they'd been home, Merlin and Gwen had been quietly urging Arthur to go and talk to Gaius. Arthur had always found an excuse to push it off: I need to train my men, Gaius is too busy, I have a hole in my sock. The list was seemingly endless and growing ridiculous.

Guinevere's head jolts up in surprise when the door to their chambers bursts open suddenly and Arthur comes crashing through, looking like he's seen a ghost.

"Arthur?" Gwen sets her sewing down and rushes to him, taking his hands in hers. "Arthur, what's wrong?"

Arthur sits heavily in a chair beside the table. "I just talked to Gaius," he says, very quietly.

"You did?" Gwen asks, pulling out another chair and sitting opposite him, catching his hands in hers once again. "Can you tell me?"

His blue eyes meet hers, and he looks like a lost little boy. "Morgause was telling the truth, Guinevere. When she brought my mother over from the spirit world. It wasn't some conjurer's trick. That was my mother, and I was born of magic." His voice is low, measured.

 _He's in shock,_ Gwen realizes, having dealt with enough battle injuries to know the signs.

"So Uther knew? He knew your mother would die?"

"No," Arthur sighs, blinking finally. "That was one piece that Morgause did twist to suit her, um, agenda. The witch Nimueh warned my father that a life would be taken in turn. Just _a_ life, not specifically my mother's. But she did warn him."

"Gaius told you this?"

He nods. "Gaius was there when I was born, obviously. My father was inconsolable, and his grief turned quickly to anger, anger first at Nimueh. Then, when she tried to explain that she did warn him, the anger turned against magic and anyone who practiced it."

"So, anyone's life could have been taken…" Gwen wonders.

"Gaius said that he tried to bargain with the gods, tried to beg them to take his life instead of my mother's," Arthur says, tears forming in his eyes now. "But it was too late."

Gwen kneels in front of Arthur now, pulling his head to her shoulder. "I'm sorry, my love."

"Me, too. To think that my father was so… stupidly arrogant."

"He was afraid," Gwen says, stroking his hair.

"He couldn't face his guilt. No. Wouldn't," he says, remembering Gwen's words once. _"Couldn't or wouldn't? There is a big difference."_

He allows her to hold him, and he buries his face in her neck, inhaling the soothing lavender scent of her.

"What struck me the most is that Gaius was willing to give his life so that I could grow up with a mother," he says after several long moments.

"That does not surprise me," Gwen whispers. "He loves you. I'm sure he was thinking that a physician could be found anywhere. You only get one mother."

Arthur pulls back and blinks at her. "That's exactly what Gaius said."

Gwen smiles. "Come, let me show you what I'm making." She struggles to her feet, and Arthur quickly helps her.

"You shouldn't have been kneeling there, Guinevere," he scolds mildly, and she dismisses him with a wave.

"I'm not an invalid, Arthur," she says, sighing, but she knows he means well.

xXx

The knock comes just as they are finishing their dinner, talking quietly, enjoying the warm spring night.

"What on earth?" Arthur wonders, hearing an unusual amount of scuffling outside the door. "Caldwell isn't this noisy," he mutters, opening the door.

"Sire, we have come to take you to the tavern," Merlin announces, after Gwaine nudges his shoulder.

"Is that so?" Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow at the group filling the corridor. Merlin, Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, Leon, and even Lancelot are all standing there, eyeing their king expectantly but warily.

Gwen appears at Arthur's shoulder. "Go on," she says, poking him.

"You knew they were coming?" Arthur asks, looking down at her.

"No. But you should go. Spend some time with the lads."

"I can't leave you here alone and… unguarded," Arthur says, indicating the men.

"I will stay behind," Lancelot offers quietly.

"That is not necessary, but thank you, Lancelot. I daresay that a night of revelry with the lads would do you some good," Gwen says.

"See? Even the queen thinks you need to loosen up!" Gwaine says, shoving Lancelot lightly on the shoulder.

"There are guards at either end of the corridor, and Bedivere and Kay are on patrol tonight. I am perfectly safe," Gwen says.

"But…"

"Arthur, go have fun. Just don't indulge _too_ much," she says, a promise that only Arthur sees sparkling in her eyes.

"When have I ever indulged too much?" Arthur asks, leaning down to kiss her goodbye.

"Well, there was your eighteenth birthday," Leon says, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

Arthur sighs and looks at the ceiling.

"And that one time in Mercia…"

"Leon…" Arthur warns, walking out the door.

"Oh, and that other time—"

"Thank you, Leon," Arthur snaps, and Gwen closes the door, chuckling to herself.

 _I think I'd like a bath,_ she thinks, hoping Lark will appear soon.

xXx

Guinevere burrows deeper into the blankets, a sound having disturbed her sleep. She listens a moment, hears nothing, and relaxes back down.

"Ouch!"

"Shh!"

"Oof!"

 _The king's triumphant return,_ she thinks ruefully, turning over, facing away from the door, grateful for the drapes separating the sleeping quarters from the other half of the room.

A loud clang as someone bumps a table and an empty pitcher topples.

"Merlin!" Arthur's harsh whisper, followed by a very curious sound. Laughter. Silly, infantile laughter. Almost a giggle, if men could indeed giggle.

"Shh!" Merlin shoots back. "Sit down."

The chair skids on the floor, squealing as Arthur flops down.

"Shh!" Arthur scolds the chair. "Guinevere'ssssssleeping."

"Um, don't think so," Merlin says, looking up to see Gwen standing there near the curtains, her hands on her hips.

"My love!" Arthur declares, holding his arms out, grinning stupidly.

"Merlin, what did you let Gwaine and my brother do to him?"

"Me? Why am I at fault here?"

She walks over. "Because you are the only one he listens to apart from myself, that's why."

"Gwen…" Arthur beckons, attempting to stand.

"Stay put," both Gwen and Merlin say.

"'Kay," Arthur says, slumping back again.

"Drinking game," Merlin mutters, pulling Arthur's boots off.

"What was that?" Gwen asks.

"It was a drinking game," Merlin says. "Arthur was terrible at it."

"They… cheeeeeeated," Arthur protests. "You," he pokes Merlin in the chest, "helped 'em… with your mmmmagic." He waggles his fingers in the air to indicate _magic._

"I never did," Merlin protests to Arthur. Then, to Gwen, "Honest, I didn't help them! Do you think I _wanted_ to be the one to have to drag his drunken backside back and face you?"

"I believe you, Merlin," she says, contemplating going over to help him with Arthur. _No, he'd be all hands right now._

"C'mere, Wife," Arthur says, waving her over with one hand.

"No," Gwen says, watching as Merlin pulls Arthur's shirt over his head. "Merlin, surely there is something you can do to sort him out?"

"Well, of course there is, but I was rather enjoying the thought of his suffering tomorrow," he grins.

"Ssss'not nice, Mmmerlin," Arthur slurs.

"Merlin, when Arthur is suffering, who else ends up suffering?" Gwen asks, crossing her arms in front of her.

Merlin stops. "Oh."

"That's right: oh. You may not be his manservant anymore, but you know him. He'll take it out on you."

"She's right, you know…" Arthur mumbles.

"Fine," Merlin huffs, stomping over to Arthur and putting his hand none to gently on the king's forehead.

"Hey," Arthur protests.

Merlin's eyes flash and Arthur's eyes close for a moment. When they open, they're clear and focused and he straightens up in his chair.

"I'm leaving now," Merlin says, and heads straight for the door before Arthur can say a word.

"Arthur?" Gwen asks quietly.

"Sorry," he mutters, standing.

"What was that? I didn't quite catch it."

"I'm sorry, Guinevere," he repeats, clearly this time. "But you know how competitive I am…"

"Yes, Love, I know. But I also know that you are the king, not just a knight, not even the prince anymore," Gwen says.

"I know," he answers quietly.

" _And_ I also know that it is important for you to have a good relationship with your men," she says, allowing him to pull her into the circle of his arms. "You smell like the tavern."

"How do you know what the tavern smells like?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

"All right, you smell like what I would imagine a tavern smells like," she rolls her eyes at him.

"You smell fantastic," he says, sticking his nose into her hair. "You've had a bath."

"Yes," she says, pulling gently out of his embrace to take his hand and lead him back to the bed. "It was lovely. And quiet."

"I really was trying not to wake you," he says, catching the implication in her voice.

"I know," she says, removing her dressing gown and climbing into bed. Arthur follows quickly, shedding his trousers, not bothering to put his sleeping trousers on. He spoons up behind her, naked, and wraps his arm around her, resting it between her breasts and the swell of her stomach.

"Presumptive, aren't you?" she asks, reaching down, her hand making contact with the bare skin on his hip.

"Hopeful?"

"Hmm," she says noncommittally, deciding that she's not going to let him have his way _that_ easily. She settles into the bed, intentionally wriggling her bottom against him so that the silk of her nightdress rubs against his groin.

Arthur's thumb strays upward, stroking the underside of her breast. His lips find her neck easily, her hair out of the way in its customary braid. He trails soft kisses there on her warm, sweet-smelling skin.

She closes her eyes and sighs softly. Arthur's tongue snakes out and skims lightly along her flesh, up to her earlobe, where he begins nibbling.

Gwen's fingers caress his skin where her hand rests on his hip, the muscles pliant and relaxed, his skin warm.

"Guinevere," he mutters her name in her ear, and it reverberates down to her core. She moans softly and his hand closes over her breast, thumb grazing her nipple through the silk.

His hand leaves her breast, dropping lower, pulling at her nightdress, gathering the material up in his hands as he inches it upward, higher and higher until it is over her head and fluttering to the floor.

Gwen attempts to turn in his arms, but he holds her in place, her back to him.

"I want to try something," he whispers, his hand ghosting across her belly for a moment before dropping lower, down between her thighs. He shifts slightly, raising the arm beneath him, moving it up until it is beneath Gwen's neck, cradling her head, his fingers touching her neck softly.

His hand drags lazily up and down her inner thigh, teasing, coaxing her open. She turns her head towards him, her lips seeking his, connecting with him hungrily. She can feel his hardness behind her, prodding her backside gently, and she slips her hand down between them to grasp him.

"Oh," he grunts softly, slipping his own fingers into the apex of her thighs, circling slowly, tormenting her with his languor.

"Arthur," she moans, squeezing him tighter. He responds by sliding his finger inside her, moving it in and out, still at a leisurely pace.

Gwen squirms, whimpering, and Arthur withdraws his finger and slides his hand along her thigh, lifting it over his own thigh.

"Oh," Gwen says, understanding his intent. She releases his manhood and moves her hand, reaching between her legs now to find him that way.

"Mmm," Arthur groans, smiling against her neck when she takes him in her hand again and helps guide him into her. "Yes," he sighs.

His hand moves to toy briefly with her breast, rolling her nipple lightly between his fingers, his palm rubbing it lightly as he rocks in and out of her.

Gwen places her hand over his and moves it down, placing it back between her legs.

"Your wish is my command, my lady," he whispers hoarsely, rubbing softly with just two fingers, adding to her pleasure.

She turns her head and captures the index finger of his other hand lightly between her teeth, moaning, distracted by her own pleasure. She sucks his finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, nibbling lightly.

"Wow," Arthur breathes, surprised both at her actions and how good it feels. He moves faster and feels her leg grasp him tighter, hanging on, encouraging him.

"Oh…" she releases his finger to cry out, approaching the brink, quivering around him for a few more endless seconds till she finally climaxes, shouting his name and grabbing his hand again, this time to stop him before she loses her mind.

"God, Guinevere," he groans, driving deep and hard three more times before stilling, buried deep within her warmth, releasing with another groan. His arm tightens around her and he presses his lips to her neck and exhales slowly against her now-damp skin.

Arthur pulls gently out and finally allows her to turn and face him. He kisses her softly, tasting her sweet lips. "I love you, Guinevere," he whispers.

"I love you, Arthur, always," she whispers back, slowly opening her eyes to gaze up at him.

"Always," he answers.


	21. Epilogue

Six Years Later

Gwen laughs as she nears the training fields, approaching what appears to be a pile of about a dozen boys between the ages of five and seven in a pile. They are shouting and squealing, clearly pleased with their accomplishment.

"So they finally succeeded, then?" Gwen asks, and a moment later, Percival's head appears in the middle of the pile as he sits up. He is grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes; I was just letting them enjoy their victory," he admits, chuckling.

Sir Percival had shown a surprising knack for dealing with small children, and once the secret got out he was put in charge of beginning training for boys wishing to be knights. The boys idolize the large, quiet man, hanging on his every word, and are rewarded for their good behavior by ending each training session with something he calls "Slay the Giant." The boys have to try and take him down, using no weapons.

Arthur had objected to the activity at first until Percival explained that it teaches the boys organization, teamwork, and trust, and that as knights, they may not always have weapons at their disposal and that they also will be battling opponents of various shape and size.

The king could not argue any of those points, and, in actuality, was a little peeved that he hadn't thought of it.

Percival stands now, appearing to be dripping with boys. One child, a golden-tan boy with unruly dark curls, turns and sees Gwen standing there, her hands clasped over her pregnant belly.

"Mother!" he squeals, dropping down from Percival's shoulder to pick up his wooden sword and run to her.

"Mum, guess what Father taught me?" six-year-old Llacheu asks excitedly, stopping a short distance away.

 _What now?_ Gwen thinks, but she watches, smiling indulgently at her first-born as he sets the his sword on the ground, the blade resting on his foot.

_Oh. That._

Llacheu kicks his foot sideways, and the sword flips into the air. He _nearly_ catches it, the handle clunking against his head instead.

"Ow," he says, rubbing his head. "Let me try again." He replaces the sword and this time succeeds, catching it in his small, gloved hand.

Gwen cheers and claps, praising her son as he grins proudly at her, swishing his sword now, rotating his wrist in a circular motion, exactly the copy of his father.

"Well done, Llacheu," Arthur's voice sounds from behind Gwen, and he wraps his arm around her considerable waist when he reaches her.

"Thanks, Daddy!" he beams.

"Yes, Love, that was very impressive," Gwen adds. She turns to face Arthur, and through a clenched-tooth smile, she mutters, "You had to teach him that?"

"I thought you liked it when I did that," he asks, glancing at his son, now distracted as another, slightly smaller boy comes up to talk to him, and soon the two are play-fighting, swinging their wooden swords.

"Yes, _you._ A grown man. Not a six-year-old boy."

"Guinevere, are we going to continue to have this discussion? We agreed. You get his brain, I get his body. That was the deal we made," he reminds her. "He's already smarter than me, anyway…" he trails off, running his hand over her stomach possessively.

"Oh, he is not either," Gwen smiles, leaning up to kiss him. She turns and sees Merlin and Mordred approaching with Amhar, their second son. "It's _that_ one you'll have to worry about."

"Ma'am?" a small voice interrupts. The boy who had been sparring with Llacheu has stepped forward.

"Yes, Aldwin, dear, what is it?" Gwen asks, looking down at a small light brown boy with large eyes and long, unruly curls.

"My mum asked… um… she was wondering…" he furrows his brows, trying to get the exact message right.

"Your mother would like me to stop in to see her today?" Gwen guesses.

His little face brightens. "Yes, ma'am. She says she has something for baby," he says, pointing at Gwen's stomach.

Gwen smiles at him and touches his cheek. "I will. Tell her I'll come after lunch." Fleta and Radley had come to Camelot just two months ago, wishing for a better life for their energetic and adventurous son. Gwen had suggested they move here so that Aldwin (named for Arthur, of course) could train as a knight of Camelot. They had arrived a week later, moving into Gwen's old house, and since then Fleta's wool work has earned her quite a reputation and, coupled with Radley's skill as a butcher, they are living quite well, and are even planning on building an addition onto their small house. Aldwin and Llacheu are like brothers, nigh inseparable, and Gwen knows that one day Aldwin will be Llacheu's own version of Sir Leon.

"Mummy! Daddy!" Amhar breaks away from Merlin now and runs on chubby little legs. He trips halfway and falls, and Llacheu hurries over and helps him up.

"See what Unca Merlin taught me!" the toddler says, standing now between his parents and Merlin. He holds his hand out, palm-up, scrunches his little face, and his brown, almond-shaped eyes flash gold for a moment. A single flame appears in his palm, dancing in the slight breeze.

Gwen claps and smiles again, reaching down to ruffle his hair.

"Well done, Amhar," Arthur says, smiling as well. It took him a couple years, but finally he's gotten comfortable with the fact that his second-born was born with the gift of magic. He never thought he'd be grateful to have Merlin so close at hand, taking Amhar under his wing as soon as the boy could string two words together. At only three, he is Merlin's star pupil.

Arthur bends and kisses the boy on his head and the wanders over to the older boys, still milling around, bothering Percival with questions. Their focus shifts when they notice the king, and soon impromptu training has begun again, though they are finished for the morning. The boys are only too eager for tutelage from their king, whom they worship nearly as much as they do Percival (something else that peeves Arthur).

"Maybe this one will be a sweet girl," Gwen says with a sigh, almost to herself, her hand coming to rest on her belly. Then she glances at Merlin to see him looking too innocently off in the distance, deliberately avoiding her gaze.

"Not _another_ boy, Merlin…" she says, groaning.

"Sorry," he says, smiling sheepishly at her. He steps over and places his hand gently on her stomach now. Amhar watches, following his usual habit of studying everything his Uncle Merlin does.

"Ah, but this one will be wise and gentle, Gwen," Merlin says after a moment.

Mordred nods, agreeing. "A diplomat. A scholar. _Your_ son."

Gwen smiles, but then it falls. "Not sure how Arthur will feel about that…"

"Oh, he'll still be a strong, strapping lad, skilled in battle, that's for certain," Merlin says, removing his hand. "I don't think Arthur knows how to make any other kind," he laughs. "But he will also have your wisdom and kindness. He will be the peacemaker in the family."

"I think I can live with that," Gwen says. She turns her gaze to her husband, now surrounded by boys. She laughs as the boys rush him and take him down, her heart swelling as she hears the laughter erupting from Arthur's lips from the bottom of the pile.


End file.
